The creases in my fingerprint give me originality,
originality made from those who created me.
Without a tree, there would be no fruit,
and there would be no tree if there were no root.
They all give each other purpose and reason,
like my family who gives me something to believe in.
Many find joy in ripping the fruit from its home,
leaving the rest of its growth feeling incomplete and quite alone.
But what it soon comes to realize is that this is life,
you hope for a plate and you get a knife.
One day the rest of the tree will be a main factor
to something much greater that truly matters.
It's only then that it will understand
why He took the fruit with his hand.
He has a plan for us all,
and like ripe fruit, he will never let us fall.

Wasting, staring at the ceiling
Ever staring; never truly seeing.
Time, ever sliding, escaping.
Brain decaying, forever melting,
Onto the pillow top draining,
In hours spent unwaking.

In a computer-world, living
Never thriving, only existing.