literature

Poison Tree

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Uncivil-Roza's avatar
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Literature Text

If I write down the words, does it make them true?  For a poison tree like myself, I am deep-rooted, so it quite possibly could be lies.  For I have tasted their bitterness on my tongue since I was a child.  I wasn’t resilient to their power snarling its way through my soul.  Yet, here I am on my knees begging to become a new tree. My body of bleeding wood wishes to thrive alive like the green flesh of a rose.  Thorns protect, but much like the deep veins in tree rings my thick skin bore to me is my cross to bear.  My prayers fall on deaf ears, like my screams are whispers to the dead.  So as I plunder and wonder why I chose blades over pens to write down my contract in blood, you see the smiling eyes.  But I am not really human.  You sit under my shade for comfort, and I am standing here ready for the poison to kill whatever solace you find in my heart.
Have not been able to write in ages. This I suppose is my attempt at trying to explain myself, or understand myself. Possibly make a breakthrough?
© 2013 - 2024 Uncivil-Roza
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Y-O-D-H's avatar

I wanna say something here, but words fall short.