That exiled tree they pruned every single day.

Branches spreading the horizon, flowers shattered,

roots embedded shyly in earth, leaves whispering

secrets, sacred seeds of love and understanding.

(that tree grew without asking for permission)

They used to hug tenderly her trunk carved with

so many names , breathing her heart, cuddling her

flowing sap with so much care. They used to sit

beneath her leaves in awe. That tree was so rare.

(that tree grew without asking for permission)

One day they decided she had sprung from a

damned seed. One day they decided she was

nothing but a weed. They pruned her fast.

She withstood the damage and tried to survive.

(that tree insisted feverishly on being alive)

She saw them turning away in disgust, she saw.

She felt them, she appreciated the disturbance.

(that offensive tree was their most cherished flaw)

The impact only her soul could understand.

She pined away, withering, choking with

the words she couldn't neither share nor

possibly say.

Karla Bardanza

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