The tree of strife
grows razor wire
tall as a hair can cut.
Degrees of life
wither crisp
until the twist of death.
Good farewells
are as wooden
as one bad bye.
The worms
will get the rest
one fall or another.
Seasons
are
myths.
In and out of contexts
The tree of strife
grows razor wire
tall as a hair can cut.
Degrees of life
wither crisp
until the twist of death.
Good farewells
are as wooden
as one bad bye.
The worms
will get the rest
one fall or another.
Seasons
are
myths.