My seed was strong and spoiled by soil,
grew up, youngest child, got every toy,
now all I wish is to be loved, spread joy.
In time my leaves and branches carry

more than my trunk can bare or roots
can hold. I need absorption of surrounds
to keep my twigs from snapping. Boil
my berry, motion, I want to leave so very

soon but I am tangled in these grounds.
I aim to bring other bushes different fruits,
change. Derive a potion from my ocean,
tears or water to feed, who knows,

I wish to predict how all goes.
I wish I still was that spoiled seed.