do you hear the muffled sound of my bones screaming under my skin?
my skeleton is like that tree over there-
our tattered framework is groaning at the same decibel level
we await for life to arise from the worn down ground;
for greenery to emerge after what feels like an endless winter
we await for the author to write us a new sonnet
about the beauty we withhold in the deepest bearings of our souls
and when those green elements of life emerge from the ground,
a glimpse of a kingdom worth waiting for is reflected from the light of the leaves.