How can you ask of me
that I will be yours?
The sun will rise in the east
and set in the west
time and time again
There will come a day
where my skin turns to dust
where my heart fails
and my bones decay
When the forest feeds on me
and grows in my stead
I will happily give up
this body of mine
I am a thing of the woods
the rivers and mountains
the beasts in the dark
and the withering rot
I will not be tamed
and I will not be promised
So do not ask of me
that I will be yours.
YOU ARE READING
poetry
Poetrysome words want to be seen. // mostly dark stuff, but some might find the light in them.
