It grows,
It grows inside me,
Not willing to stop,
Not willing to heed,
Not willing to die.
It twitches and turns
Runs its roots all inside me,
It sometimes uproots
Only to root itself again, stronger than before.
I live,
Bearing its heavy
branches,
Carrying its thorny stem,
Waiting for it to flower within me
And make my breath fragrant again,
Hoping for it to fruit
And make my blood regain its red,
Expecting birds to sit on its curves
And sing to me the song of the soul.
I live trying to love
Its coarse body and tiny leaves,
Time goes on and nothing changes,
It still keeps growing unwilling to halt.
I have now begun to submerge,
Heavy with the weight of this tree that is planted within,
The tree that has neither flowered nor borne fruit,
The tree that has never seen birds fly to it and sing,
The tree that has never known spring.
I try to weed it out,
I scar its branches,
I crumble its fallen leaves,
I try all I can but it dosent move.
The weight of its bark is making me sink,
Its existence in me is a sensation so peculiar
Like that of a mermaid fidgeting to grow legs.
This tree has been growing ever since I saw
The reflections of you in the mirage of my soul,
Your illusionary love has been its manure,
The oasis of my tears has been its drink,
It grows heavier and heavier
Making me stoop,
It sulks my eyes and shrinks my skin,
Maybe someday it will outgrow me,
Maybe my tree has its own destiny,
Maybe it will see its spring soon,
Or maybe time has other plans for it,
Maybe its meant to kill me one day
And then grow tall from the bed of my grave.
