You've become a twisted tree,
Gnarled knots and roots dug so deep,
They've planted you right where you stand.

I picked an apple from your bows,
Climbed so high for what?
To taste something,
Something so sour I wish I never bit.

You said to use your limbs,
To build my broken home.
But I crawled into your trunk,
And settled into your bones.

I made my way down to your roots,
And planted my own seed.
I want to see you try to move,
When my roots entwine with yours.

I made my way up to your highest branch,
And took away the clouds,
Plucked off all of your fruit,
Just to make my way back home.

Now they plan to chop you down,
To build a highway where you stand,
And somehow I'm nowhere to be seen,
When you need a helping hand.