Distracting from the fact that
All I’ve ever known is a lie,
That my fabricated reality
Is no more real than the
Phantoms that I can’t shake.
Enduring like the pine trees
That I left back home in exchange
For leaning palms and rolling hills.
My heart feels like a redwood that
Believes it’s merely kindling for
A fire warming a stranger’s hands.
Concealing words and whispers that
I hear in passing through the branches,
Just fragments that I can’t decipher.
I used to build my nest inside that tree
And now I’m merely perched here
Until a cold wind leads me back north.