A Sea Of HeadsA Poem by Outdated AccountMore things about treesI always wanted willows, I wish they'd weep for me, 'ore the jagged piece of granite That lay beneath the tree. I would idle eternally 'neath those bowing branches, Resting, withered, peaceful; Once I'm all but ashes. But they ripped the willows Out from the dirt, No more shade to linger here. There was need of other pillows, Beds to rest, and convert. Without a willow, will I disappear?
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