I grew within the barren tree
Twisted branches, desolate leaves,
Bitter bark to protect from disease,
And all the burning cold that creeps.
“Death,” pronounced, but the view deceives
Cut through to pulp, and life will bleed.
While all the force of gale and fury
Shaping with each stroke of cruelty
Aimed for roots, but merely stripped the eaves.
Sky breaks open, a breath to see
Warm rays, the scent of security.
Seasons change, eventually.
But I, protected, possessed, will flee
Under the skin of death and deeds
And lies of a life I can’t believe.
I title this existence, “Free.”
