Killing You Softly

A poisonous seed sowed by a venomous beast,

Grows slowly and steadily but never will cease.

Finds it's way to those loved the least,

In which only roots pruned can bring about peace.

Yet, instead we tend to nurture sickness which has no end,

And hope the snake will change its ways once its prey's bones begin to break.

But why must you acclaim the beast you "tamed" never left you truly broken and maimed?

Perhaps because to stay sane we often grow accustomed to the pain.

But you cannot appease a diseased tree if you hope to indulge the open breeze,

Nor can a fish wish to cherish the sea, and also relish in a fisherman's company.

So do not fall for the ticks sick, parasitic tricks, for you are the mechanic,

And you decide if and when the clock clicks.

So it must be,

That one may never be free,

If we nurture roots from a poisonous tree,

That are ever so slowly, killing us softly.