This is a picture of a mountain with ice on it

She weeps, weeping harder than I’ve ever seen in these past months. I mark the calendar, still taking it all in. I’m lost, we’ve been at it for so long that I’ve forgotten what true happiness had felt like. We all deal with pain our own way, in this I fault to my vanities. Sinking me into the abyss; I whisper one last word to end my show.


Fallen I’ve become; to Human Tendencies.


This is an image of a dead tree surrounded by lively Forrest

I find my roots have been seeded in soiled soil. The roots became dead as the top quickly flourished, but dwindled in the next season. Dead rot suffocates me as I lay dormant in the madness of my own thought. I’m relieved. For these adaptive roots I plant in soil a new. Soil with the gift of life surrounds. Lush plantation, dense tree leaves cloud the sky as I sit, waiting for the roots to take in.