The Dying Willow Tree

The winter it kills
All life in hiding
Behold the naked, dying willow tree
Tortured by its honesty...

Sometimes I think the moon is full every night
Sometimes I feel invisible to everyone
I miss those nights when I was high
And withering
I'm like the dying tree in spring
Because the ailing willow tree
Tries to hide the rot
Behind its long, long leaves

The summer I got sick
Turned yellow, pink and green
The walls, the paint, the powder on my book
The sickly tree that August
Got eaten up by heat
Behind the dying willow's thick canopy
The black was spreading fast
Even though no one could see

It's like unwrapping a candy
Or removing your green dress
I scraped off all your layers
And made you tidy with my visa card
I didn't notice my sister's depression
Cause I was trying to swallow my own
And meanwhile that willow was weeping
Fretting for the coming Fall
When it would no longer be able to masque
Its perpetual decay

Sometimes I think happiness is just an act
A forced change of state
Or poorly executed façade
I miss the years when I wasn't on the outside edge
I'm like the tree in Fall
Which is now being noticed by those
Who are shocked and disgusted
By its rapid degradation

The dying willow tree
Just like me
Is full of broken beauty
But people tend to look the other way now

This is my statement
My echo
My testament to those who's hearts are growing tired
You can't find your way back
To those carefree days
Before all of the pain and fury
And though you can lie down and rest
You can't dream anymore
For your dreams are those
Of a restless wreck
And are no longer your own
Desperate, the afflicted willow was praying for healing...

But the sickness was too strong
And finally it fell
Heavy and slow

Yet I refuse to be cut down any further
To have any more crucial parts of me
Simply trimmed away
To be muted and tamed
For others benefit
I will not give in
Because my story is still unsuitably unfinished
I am not whole yet
I need to find the scattered pieces
That were thrown so carelessly away
Into the night wind
To sew back together what is still salvageable
So that finally
I can attempt to heal
And even though I will always wear
The telling scars of sadness
I can still smile
Because I have hope for a future
That is yet unwritten
And I alone, hold the pen...