That day, it seemed my heart called out to me to look up and recognize the very tops of the trees in the sky.
This is for the wounded birdswhose lives esculate the broken airways over the waves of dispair.
this one is for the growing trees whose leaves breathe deep my exhaust and reach toward the sky to spite
this is for the bedraggled friends whose life is a constant coffee spill staining your shirt in a way...
this one is for the hopeless plastic sack whose weightlessness floats aimlessly in simplistic beauty none can match