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Ladybird
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Sycamore
I am ever-growing, but they cut my heart out, leaving on their way.
I am left here with a piece missing that I will never know.
Now, consistently I can feel that piece from me, slowly dying silently.
I am just a rotting tree.
My core is severed.
Let's try something that we cannot dream.
Let's see new colors that I've never dreamt of.
They persist.
Let's try something that we cannot dream.
Let's see new colors that I've never seen before.
They conflict with the doves around my head.
They linger in the fields.
I find that under the shadows of wheat they wait still.
It seems so fitting.
You never knew what a shame it was when you took this piece from inside of me.
Raise me.
Mark me.
Abuse me.
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Label me.
Cut me.
Know me.
Bury me.
Remember me.
I am one with the vine.
My heart sings.
My head in the clouds.
Wind in my face, we look and find no rest.
The wind will sing.
We are one with the vine.
We won't go back to it.
We won't go back to it.
Let's try something that we cannot dream.
Let's see new colors that we may never see, again.
We are slaves.
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