DK (11/19/72 / New York)

The Tree

You and me
like an old tree
withering under the sun
my shell hard
my heart marred
the end is near
the dying wispers
i can hear
like the wind through the leaves
the last dying plea's
the trust
the hate
broken, is the clean slate
from this plate
i must eat
and my screams
i must keep
and live with the creep
the creep in me
and hide him from all to see
my shell is charred
my soul marred
but return i will
this.. shit, .. i have eaten my fill

by David Keicher

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