She was a
tree
Planted not
by a stream
But on a
mountaintop
Never seen
Sans the birds
And the
Rain-heavy
clouds
Which
couldn’t care if they tried
If she cried
Or her roots
died
Instead they
were the abusers
Who used her
branches
Without
purchase or gratitude,
They were
villains
Wandering over
skies
Causing
Storms that left her
Less grounded, to die
Confounded
as to—why me?
Afraid
because she tilted with
Even the
gentlest of winds
She was a
tree
In a
precarious position
With cause
to fall, and
The
mountaintop killed her
But with all
the other trees
In forests
below,
No one cared
Sans the sky
Who without
The
permission of clouds,
Could not cry
