The Poet Tree

Peel the paper from the bones
A seed waits beneath the soil
The ink is pushing further up your spine
From your head grows a tree and the roots rip the words and the bitter rain
leaves a mark of everlasting change deep in the pulp of your heart
Weight bends the birches low
Fades more with every blow
A whisper spreads the letters randomly
From your head grows a tree and the roots rip the words and the bitter rain
leaves a mark of everlasting change deep in the pulp of your heart
Should someone carve a heart
Let the blood hit the ground
It adds a bit of truth, turns the chestnut into the sweetest fruit
Don’t let the raven nest
Don’t let it fly
Bye bye