Yew tree |
The yew tree
The mother of you and me
From her crown another soul will born
watching the world, waiting to be torn
Taking the train of wind
Letting the clouds get grinded
A new life starting in a dimension underneath blood-filled skin
When coming out, bursting a bubble so thin
Living in a world so harsh
Sinking every deeper in a marsh
Towards the death day
for again to lay
In the yew trees motherly roots
slowly getting rocked in her safe booth
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