There are trees I often run to
In deadest part of night
Gnarled all encompassing limbs
Hold me tight in their grasp
Refusing to allow my breathe
And I cry
I cry for losing the ability
I cry for losing myself
I am and always will be so much more
Than meets the eye
The secret is
And the secret shall always be
Having the ability to separate
Wheat from chaff
Dream from day
Love from lust
Cock from cunt
And those who would give you shelter
Those who would smile
Live upon the grandest mirage
Build of only grain and grit
Cotton mouthed spit
We are all alone
When once we chose to sleep
There are trees I often run to
In deadest part of night