Oh, sweet Willow. Why do you weep?
You've no fear of being cut down
No fruit to reap.
You'll stand on the bank, by this old river bed
You'll weap in quiet sorrow
Until you are dead
Don't worry about heartache
Your friends are just trees
Pain they can take
They can't even feel breeze
If you had a voice, what would your words be?
Would it be "Hello, my friend." or "Please...kill me."
Nov 30, 2012
Nov 30, 2012 at 1:43 AM UTC
Oh, sweet Willow. Why do you weep?
You've no fear of being cut down
No fruit to reap.
You'll stand on the bank, by this old river bed
You'll weap in quiet sorrow
Until you are dead
Don't worry about heartache
Your friends are just trees
Pain they can take
They can't even feel breeze
If you had a voice, what would your words be?
Would it be "Hello, my friend." or "Please...kill me."
Request permission to use this poem