Arid

My branches are hardened the roots run deep no matter how I try they won't lose their grip... Degenerate, dejected, dry I thrive in the barren heath silence is my cry I suffocate underneath... Sucked of all joy springtime warmth is an enemy I crave not her smiles her caress is my misery... All leaves…

Closed minds…

Some closed minds remain closed no matter how many keys you try turning in them... © Isha Garg