My tree is too bare to stand alone,
Needing my leaves to keep me beating.
Family and friends just pass by,
Winds blow through my skinny branches,
Leaves fly high off the ground,
Just as my pencil, here, writes
To explain myself.
Too scared to write at first…
Thinking too much of what you’ll think.
But my branches whip so freely now,
Lost in the moment of the thundering storm.
Standing here by myself,
But standing taller than any tree,
Knowing that if I grow holes and rot
From the inside out…
I will die and prove you right.
But I live on inside my words,
No matter how hurtful, powerful, delightful they are.
Myself, in that tree, lives on inside you all.
A stamp inside your hearts.