Poisoned

What poison touched my roots,

And made my tree bear bitter fruits?

That made my branches bend and twist,

Becoming gnarled like a witch’s fist?

Could it have been the fertilizer lain,

Made from remnants of the heart which was slain?

Could it have been the lies and cruel words,

That left their waste like flocks of dark birds?

Perhaps it was the tears of pain,

That showered down like acid rain.

No matter the cause of this tainted harvest,

I am but one of many in this black forest.

Deeper I must force my roots to go,

To find the proper soil for me to grow.

And transform these fruits from bitter to sweet,

Ultimately stretching my branches to its destined peak.