Fall leaf hands
Shaking in the wind
Rough soft bark
A face worn away
By rain and age
White grey Spanish moss
Blowing
Blowing gently
Shoulders shaking
Draped with a worn ragged blanket
Thinner than a filament.
The harsh wind
Cuts at him
While they help it
Chop him down
Wielding their axes of ignorance.
The streams that coursed
Through his veins
Are drying
Oblivion and apathy
Taking what's left,
As another tree struggles
To stay rooted in the middle of a forest,
Trees are falling
In the middle of crowds
But still nobody seems
To hear a sound.
YOU ARE READING
Ink Stained Soul
שיריםAnecdotes and snapshots of life, sometimes mine sometimes based off of other people, events, songs, books, etc. I hope you enjoy it, but more than that, I hope you can connect with something bigger than all of us. After all, isn't that the point of...
