When will my tree grow?
I water her, feed her, & make sure she gets enough sun.
Why won't my seed grow?
I used to have a green thumb.

Trees are supposed to be beautiful & powerful,
so what's wrong with mine?
All the other trees are sprouting, why am I stuck behind?
I can't do anything right
And this soil is so dry.

I'm trying to break free

At least I'm already buried.

I try to tell myself everything I do is not for you
My life it revolves
The sun the stars the moon
I stand before the mirror trying to see myself clearer
Tears morph my body’s shape
Blurred like spilled paint
I whisper, “I hate you” as I stare at my face
I can’t breathe, so faster I try
Lightheaded vision, gagging, wanting to die
But the most I do is cry.

I drift lonely, lonely for you
You’re my depression, you’re my muse
Self hatred claims my compass,
So I follow it into the forest
And loathe your loving,
It infects me like fungus
Now I’m lost and scared
Inside my brain, you inject your lethal stain
I follow you on your path of wonder till I collapse
Exhaustion, pain, death, relapse

I idolize you and your flaws
How you seem so free
While around me forms a mist of misery
A clouded conscious with what I made you my life
Now I hate everything that I am,
And nothing’s right
Unmotivated, unsure
I allow you to engulf me; careless for a cure
I know what I’m doing but I don’t know who I am
Still on my knees I pray to you,
The blood slain of my own lamb.
My addiction to your presence has forced me to beg for more
I don’t know why I can’t end this war.

At night; love loses the fight.
The night cannot protect you from the truth.
There never seems to be an end to the tears.
Or the sheer terror pinning me to my mattress.
My body recognises I am exposed to venom.
It’s innocent efforts make me cry.
It forces me into sickness, my body the only one to look out for me
Protecting me, spilling anything foreign from my body
That could make me feel such unbearable discomfort.
I am terrified that I can’t see you.
There could be blades or tyres or water
And I can’t see it. And I can’t save you.
I want so badly to save you,
But your tone is accustory, your voice unfamiliar
And I don’t know how to pull a stranger from the ledge
Without it seeming like sabotage.
On cold asphalt at 2am I sob
And when someone comes to complete their charity case
I am shocked by my shaking words.
“He is the only one that loves me.
I cannot lose the only person who has ever loved me.”
But am I delusional to see reciprocation?
Because while I gasp at the slightest scrape
And scream at every one of his blows
He can only remind my breathless lungs
Of their selfishness.
I am in agonising pain every second that you are hurting.
And yes my lungs are selfish when they breathe, whispering;
“I wish someone loved me that much.”