The Weeping Willow


I see arms spawn out all around your torso,
In hopes of reaching someone
And bringing then into your heart.
I see legs pushing past loose particles of soil
In hopes of finding solid ground.
The russet skin is a support beam,
Holding everything together,
While the world tried to pull you apart piece by piece.
I see a building that towers over an empire,
And below is a world of natives'
Just trying to survive.
A nation that just wants something
To grab a hold of in their time of need.
So they grab the closest thing they can find,
And call it the helping tree.
This is because it's something they can depend on.
It stands out from the crowd.
It's the listener of sad times.
Each time it hears another sad story
The undergrowth weeps more and more,
Capturing every sad soul,
And giving them a place to feel safe.

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