His Roots

He once had told me of a small town

A blink away from being alone

Tucked behind the wild world

But a kiss away from home

 

He spoke of a rusty settled car

Pierced through by an old oak tree

There it sat and there it stayed

Unable to touch the free

 

He had said the car was beautiful

It reminded him of what he felt

But what he failed to recognize

Was that the car was actually myself

 

He whispered how he loved me

Because I would always stay

But I wonder, did he understand why?

Because I could never drive away

 

He ripped a hole in me bigger than words

Out of love I'd like to believe

His branches scattered all over the place

But his roots found a home in me

 

He towered the wound ripped through my core

It seemed he had nowhere to go

It felt right at first, I'm sure of it

But soon he had no room to grow

 

He left me stuck in his beautiful trunk

At least his leaves can wander around

Feel for the wind of what could have been

As for me, I'm stuck in the ground

 

P.S.

He once had told me of a small town

A blink away from being alone

Tucked behind a wild world

But now I must call it my home

This poem is about: 
Me

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