My heart sits upon a tree

Perched on a crooked wood,

Spectating the world below

Of uncertainty.

Here, exposed to the elements

But sheltered from vulnerability;

From being shattered once more

In exchange for a safer distance.

No other tree matches this stature.

Those built underneath the clouds are

Covered in a vale of naivety

And clean of life's teeth.

All is seen from here;

Betrayal, avarice, sin.

The real corruption behind human eyes,

Rotting away at the soul.

We try our best to avoid torment,

Hiding where truth reigns superior

Yet something propels us

To take the dive.

The body knows how reality's affliction

Attacks and deceives,

Still the mind is compelled towards

The struggle of getting out alive.

I want to be clean of this thought and

Able to move past broken memories,

But the idea of looking beyond

Is not within reach.

So here my heart sits upon a tree,

Gazing over trials of mortal insensitivity;

Holding onto a fragmented experience

And being cut by the shards of false hope.