Can you feel the wood grain
And the pain in my skin
Bleeding like tannins
To haunt me again
Will I become a forest
With my kin at my side?
Or maybe just driftwood
Washing up with the tide
Can you count my rings
On the day that I died?
Weathered grey
Broken limbs
The lines under my eyes
Will the stressed have been worth it?
Inescapable, it seems
Will all I have in the end is sand
And broken dreams?