He was lonely, as was his heart, carver
Of wood, he searched upon forest &
Glade till before his eyes laid sight of a masterpiece,
Home he hurried
Carving,  
Smoothing,
Varnishing
Not noticing or ignoring the black knot
But unbeknown, this was a deeper
Problem. Rotten, decayed black festered
Within not showing on the outside,
But things are missed in joy,
Things that will haunt, but he was finished
His boy of wood stood before
His so tearful eyes, your only wood
Only inanimate, sitting before my weeping eyes.
Heard where his whispers
Upon a night were they asked back,
"You are of sound heart"
"You are of compassion"
"You will have a son of wood with life in his heart"
As he looked upward,
A sight befell his reddened eyes
"FATHER"
Words fell forth unto his ears,
"Did you just speak??
"Father"
He hugged upon wood given life,
"Son"
"Son"
"A boy of my own given life"
"I love you son"
"I love you father"
His nose grew,
leaves sprouted forth,
"Aaghhhhh"
As Pinocchio snapped what grew forth,
And throw it upon the floor,
In pain he reeled,
"Son be calm"
For lies will be greeted by growth
Shall a lie be told, only good boys
And girls realise that honesty will be rewarded.
With that he cuddled his father, you know
Not love but I will show you unconditionally
Till you understand honesty also love,
Upon those words both bedded
For the night was late and father was old,
But he never slept, upon the floor
Part of him that broke off,
Now tainted black,
As it had succumb to its chosen fate,
As he fashioned upon tools
A living weapon,
"Blackest as night"
He felt connected
They were apart but one.
Into the bedroom he crept,
"Father"
"Father"
"Awaken"
Startled old eyes widen, I have a gift,
As he plunges it forth,
Son whhhhy I loveeee youuu
"I am but wooden given life"
"Blackness rots inside"
"It must feed"
For without it I will cease,
When I was just cold
It was my end no difference to any one.
And now given life
That is all that matters this night,
And with that he ****** into his
"Fathers heart"
He felt relief inside no more ties
But he cried splintered tears upon his
Blood they mixed upon the floor
He had extinguished his first life.
He needed to stem the flow as
He felt the veins rooting further
Life was his not easily given up,
The town fell silent that night,
As he fed well, he charred his
Finger tips black upon once so tanned,
So to feed with both knife and hand.
He would travel the world, death in his wake
All thought
"How unique"
"How harmless"
"How sweet"
But when the hunger craved,
Life was bled,  life was ceased
All for the rot to not **** this wooden boy
"Rotten core in a boys shell"
Prey his nose does not grow just a little
Because your time in life will be up.

The thorns that you were caught in,
The petals that you destroyed,
The leaves that fell, crumpled, lay on the ground.

But the sunlight still nurtures a new sap,
The air sustains it's nutrition,
Water still nourishes the bud that grows.

A new flower will blossom,
Just like the old, weathered or the destroyed;
The same fate sealed for all, through all of time:

One: To grow old, shrivel and die;
Two: To weather at their peak and rot;
Three: To be used as decor and be thrown away;

Can we call it a fate sealed with the option of three doors?
Are these the clutches of nature's cruelty?
Or is it that, 'such is life'?

--
She had resigned herself to ruthless fate.
For she'd been through all three doors;
And was convinced it's a conspiracy of the cosmos;

She had chosen door Three,
And she walked out with her pride.

She was asked to try door Two,
And was still alive when she crawled out.

Enraged, they shoved her through door One,
And found her still form was breathing--

Till merciless time silenced her for good.
--

Her black-blue bruises,
Her decaying soul and
Her wrinkles of experience are proof--

*An end will always come to what grows...