Near is the coming, not going with ease;
Way too wrinkled, one too many a crease.
Broken in places, still I grew;
Cracked like a sieve, light shimmering through.
Of skin and tissue, allegedly unable to feel;
Look inside you’ll see, that really, I’m unable to heal.
Grew up under a shadow, amidst cheers to stand tall;
Dug deep but there too, a shortfall.
Only wanted to help; settled on shallow and spread;
Now I’m dead in the center, as I’m lain to bed.
An unsent prayer is all I have left;
Let me live free, for I am just a tree.