The sound of drilling and a continuous beep
The home of yellows and some red
The water that covers everything but the hill top
The water that the hill top flower comes to dread
Stuck between cement
Broken limbs in an ugly arrangement
Truly just a stub, mistakes seemed evil bewitchment
As the flower has sighed and wailed
It looks down at his enlarged reflection
The water has risen, perhaps cursing him?
The cries of apology flow in indistinct stances
Ceaselessly omitting the ones of true worth, what are the chances?
But as tears fall, withered becomes the flower
Brittle does no help to its guilt and sorrow
A constant chant of "drown, drown, drown!"
It only eats on the hopeless hope of
tomorrow
But someone has come
Come from behind them
They were there all along
They saw the blackened roots deep within, but unlike others, held the green stem
They spoke with a gentle muffled voice. "Please, oh tree with horrendous mistakes, travel to the creature with black vines as it's presence. It may fool you, the tales of it's acts are mistaken. As the black fog circles are you, suffocating the clear air, hold still in your place. Let it mark on your forehead an empty triangle, once feared by all. Stand with it firmly and don't go back to this place you once stood before. Be held high and higher into the embrace of the clouds. I will come back to see you once again when you are one with the clouds of the sky."
