I am as a tree is to the seasons

Changing on a schedule

Dying every year

Reborn with the knowledge

That my happiness is fleeting

 

I am a grammar school sports trophy

Given out as a prize for participation

To sit on your shelf forever

As a sign you did something good

When that is a lie

 

I am clothes that don’t fit

But you squeeze into anyway

Because for some reason

I make you feel safe

Even though I cut the circulation

Off from your veins

 

I am a security net

That you know might break

But kept there

Because you don’t know

Where to buy a new one

And you prefer

“the evil you know”