-tiny trees

                 
she looks through me like I was a dirty window                
I take no offense, because I also cannot see well                
outside birds circle above waiting for answers                
as the gods decide my fate; I think aloud, hoping        
one day they will fly away now, because my corpse  
has lost its potential...              
                 
I scream into the dark areas of my mind's eye                
listening for some echo, since I can't tell when                
my emotions have been true at times; I store                
them in tiny trees which grow within me to prune                
another day, when they have grown away from                
the crust and stone; it's mostly quiet, but once in        
awhile you can hear them whisper about the Moon...

-ed