If I were a Tree

If I were a tree,

Maybe I'd be free.

Not stuck in my mind

Wondering if they hate me.

I'd be autonomous and imperfect,

And okay with that, too.

Not knowing how to think,

Not right on the brink

Of ending all of this in a blink.

My thoughts wouldn't be deep,

And I would easily sleep;

Unplagued by voices

Of the hearts that I reap.

If I were a tree,

I wouldn't forsee

Every situation

That could come to be.

I'd be free of the fear, free of the lies.

If I were a tree,

Would I still want to die?

But maybe I need to feel pain

And sadness and strain

Or just cry to release

The tension in my brain.

But I can't feel a thing;

I'm not happy or sad, or whatever's in between.

All I feel is fear and guilt;

Wish I could enjoy all that you've built.

Trees are strong, and weak.

And don't have to speak.

They aren't judged,

And it's okay if their joints creak.

For all of these trees,

It's normal to feel nothing.

It's normal to sleep without resting,

It's normal to cry without hurting.

But unfortunately, I'm not a tree.

Poetry