______________________________
I fell from the tree again.
That tree so cold with age,
so brittle, with daggers hanging
and dripping;
it tries to carve its name below
as its branches bend and drag
beneath a merciless sky.
The wind carries a shroud,
that caresses the tree with splicing
comfort. It feels not like us,
but confused -
its features sway from side to side
uprooting my balance;
I fell from the tree again.
The ground is not so bad,
more stable than the decaying
expanse above. My peers join me
in the name that we carved
resting peacefully beneath its arms,
oblivious to the fact that the clouds
are not so merciless.
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Devious Comments
The ground isn't so bad...it's a little unforgiving, though.
--
You are free to do whatever it is you want to do.
Thank you for such a wonderful poem.
--
Were heading to the sea, Archer told the clump of leaves. Want to come?
Main account: ~Misaki408
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