Branching Out

Sprout with your arms out in peace
gather good karma, gather favors, hold on to these
gripping tighter, brown and green blood when you release
I come to take another arm, and you cry, you beg "Please, please!"
My eyes must seem hard as stones with this fixated lock
I feel your pain and I come again and again to rip and tear
my tree, you cower at me as I am stolen away to become the rock
I must be, I need the last olive branch you have, damn the cost I cannot care.