Then the Trees Were Born to Die


My days are versed in conformity.
My individuality has been stripped since birth.
Thrown into the mold of "normalcy,"
It seems even paragons lose their worth.

When I feel uninspired,
And every moment seems blase,
I know my mind isn't wired
To talk, and tick, and think in a tumultuous way.

For if you teach a bird to walk,
Then the bird will never fly,
And if you try training trees to talk,
Then the trees were born to die.

Poem Rating:
Click To Rate This Poem!

Continue Rating Poems


Share This Poem