My senses are tired.
I want to be in silence,
But silence only makes me scared.
My fears are rooted deep within me,
To pull them out is a nightmare.
My stream branches through my branches
And I try and keep a hold
Of just one at a time,
yet remember all to fold.
My skin is mellow and cold
Like to mould it how I will.
But I cannot change what's already planted.
If I was brave, I'd till.
