The tick tick ticking of time passing by
The climbing numbers of a clock while,
My mother tells me to stop, the minute hand
Whispers to the hairs stretching up
I plant seeds that I never see
I already envision a nimble tree, I plant thyme
But she dies (too much sun)
I wasted thyme, a thousand granules
Dives through a hole smaller than my faith in humanity
I was once pushed down onto my knees,
Knees I bent to pray, so I stood and saw a luminescent sign
it read in a bright red light
EXIT-entialism
This is for me
What you believe is for you,
Don’t tell me I’m not listening, if I’m just
Not believing
Words you garnish with a glittery façade
My peace is found in tranquility, a serene scene
The hum of humans don’t speak to me
You see, I dream what the trees dream, this winter
Was long for all of us, I stood dormant
Disassociated from the soil of my own soul, I was lost
My perception hazy before the first bloom of Bluet whose
Fragrant spell gently shook me from a slumber, I woke to see
The flower stompers who shrivel my skin
Words like corn syrup, mellifluous and persuasive

What I first mistake as a leaf
Tossed by the airy vortex of a passing beast
Is a wrapper of a Snickers Bar that will
Hit the ground hard and hit my heart
Synthetic sounds mimics the music we desperately seek.