I am the stark silhouette of a tree
Against the dead sky of winter
I'm full of poison fruit
That will overwhelm your heart with the deadly desires
My bark is made from the skin of broken dreams
And mediocre fantasies.
My roots dig into earth that had been polluted and abused
Feasting on the blood of yesterday
I am sure you've listened to the pulse of my pain in your darkest times
and cursed my foreboding presence in your bliss
I am the voice of the past
I am the voice of the future
And I will wait perpetually
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