This Tree

This tree can still blossom, a changed fate.

The branches will grow, weaker.
The trunk will be thick, hollower
The flowers will bloom, smaller.
The leaves will appear, darker.
It’ll take its own place, but not tower.

Because its roots have changed.
Not dead, but stunted.
Not diseased, but malnourished.
Not twisted, but confused
Not hacked, but scarred

This tree will still blossom, a dwarfed destiny