I try to think about your disease.
My mentor tells me that you're unapproachable.
Your skin is coated with beetles, your teeth are fashioned of wood from the forest.
Inside your hair, a few birds built their nest; it's home for them.
Wildflowers grew carelessly around your ankles, and all the scents of the forest penetrated your skin
You mellowed inside the forest.
You become the forest.
I try to think about your disease.
I envy you.