There stood a mustard tree.
She gazed at the mustard tree
But what could this mustard tree be?
A sign for her to flee?
A defenseless fight against society?
There stood a mustard tree, naked with no leaves.
There stood she, naked with no means.
The only thing that understood her was the tree.
Eye to eye, it saw what she sees.
At the end of Fall, it fell
And so did she.
YOU ARE READING
The Crypts in my Mind
PuisiA compilation of poems I've written. These are the things that go on deep inside the crypts in my mind. Best ranking: #2 in Novelty
