Dark Little Tree

Ringing in my ears

dark yet soft pines

on my fingertips.

Touching your dry darkness

knowing you’re not coming back

knowing theres too much death in our world.

That naivete doesn’t change it

especially when the warmth of our dear souls causes it

that being a cold corpse wouldn’t stop it.

Our emotions somehow enjoy it

a fulfilling in tempture

to feed more warmth to the fire.

In a bright yet somehow dark mind and soul

till we’re like the sun’s fate

swallowing up everything.