He was like a tree I would sit under just to escape for awhile of thought that filled my mind.
Little I knew thoughts followed me, because they were me but I would never accept that reality.
He was a tree I would go to, to under to escape time and time again every punch I'd take in the chest and some stuck in my throat.
Everything around me spun around in an unorganized mess while I would sort everything one by one dedicated to the sound.
Not a physical aound that you hear but the one that you feel from within, the kind when the tree lost it's leaves or when others would come. This tree is my nest, the only escape for me capable to latch onto every move and feeling simply by a curve of the wind sliding through the teeth and to my soul.
This tree wasn't made up of physical beings but this tree was a heling place you could come to if you needed it or not.
Some reason they don't even fucking care if you're a mess or a steaming gust of rebellion of your own path in your life that was already picked out for you before you were even thought of being conceived.
Thoughts, feelings, thoughts, feelings, thoughts, feelings, patience, feelings, tree...
Tree.
