Poem: On Hesitation, Again
I've rested my head on this tree for so long, it's started to grow around me.
My body's gone sore from standing too long, my minds been as still as can be.
I have no holes in my body,
so where did all my blood go?
My brains been breathing so less recently.
Where did it all go?
I swear it drained
into a puddle
by my feet,
on this ground
of idle
I stand in.
I've always hated lifting my head from this tree,
so why do I love everytime that I do?
Stuck.
Unending.
Never-touching, never-leaving.
A lie, a comfort.
So close yet so far;
crown shyness.
I wonder why I'm still next to this tree.
I wonder why I keep forgetting the times all my blood was rushing through my body; free.
I wonder why I let the pins and needles take control of me again.
over and over,
over and over,
again.
.
.
I'm going to be okay.