09/22/08

Many people go there. That place where trees look like there leaves and needles are slumping over. As soon as you walk outside you see them, the poor things are so close together as if in a sea of loneliness. When you go there you might here the wind blow, although it feels so good on your skin you can here the trees begin to cry. Very little flowers bloom there and the ones that do are thinking if they want to be there in the first place. Everything is cemented. Cemented in their prison with no where to grow. When you look at them they'll show you that they're dying. I am guessing from the lack of attention. Oh wait...a women walks through them, walking on their roots as is to be stomping on their hearts. As she approaches you can see the lit cigarette in her mouth and she flicks ash down upon them. Well at least these trees aren't alone. I am here!