I am a tree in the winter.
as the snow seems to fall so carelessly
And yet I still hold on to it, the weight making it tempting to snap.
People stare at my beauty and seem to forget that I am dead.
They fail to see my arms extending as branches asking for help.
That all the vibrancy I used to have is gone.
Leaving so gradually, people didn't notice until it was too late.
I stand alone in the bitter wind,
It seems everyone else has a warm place to hide.
I am the only dark object in a globe of white,
If there are other trees I can't see them through my own fog.
My arms have scars like trees have rings.
My skin is bark -
growing thicker with every attack I receive.
People have hollowed me out and created a hole where my heart used to be.
It amazes me how people manage to find the beauty in my pain.
But maybe it's because they know.
They know the strength it takes to hold up all the snow.
They know that when I say I am dead I do not really mean it.
Because if I really was, I would not still be searching for my sunshine.
New leaves would not grow when the spring finally does come around.
Everyday has the chance to be spring, I just have to be ready for it to be.
I have to bear the winter first, old leaves have to fall to make room for new ones.
And until then, I just have to be open to let life create a home in my hollowness.
Or maybe they dont know that, and I came up with that all on my own.
