In Its Absence - UN

From what tree

do these leaves fall

that now lay upon your head?

Emblazoned upon

your forlorn brow,

the tragedy of a withered crown.

From what grove

do these roots spread

that now search for richer soils?

Reaching up

to break the ground

and wrap you in its lonely gown.

And ever you crawl

Deeper within yourself

in hopes to quell the pain

you’ve allowed to define you

Every thought becomes a seed

that grows into a vine of guilt

and every day, its grip grows tighter

and you’ve become its slave

Yet still you fear

The shell you’ll become

asking yourself,

“Who would I be in its absence?”