The decrepit oak tree still stands ,perched upon a corner
My name has been carved on its ebony
You refuse to stare at it for long
Afraid to realize that I withhold your destiny
That I am the vibrant blossom blooming despite the autumn greed
The vicious untamed vines creeping atop the neighbour's field
I lurk between the precise cuts and shallow hollows of the words you print
Among your treacherous thoughts a.d the desires that...