Our leaves are wilted.
Water is scarce.
We look up with tears.
If only you would water us.

My death spreads deeper to my veins.
I am in love with you, dear source of my life.
Fill this dried and dessicated shell.
My sanity is forged in your life.

No direction do I have.
What is North?
What is any of it without depth in these vessels?
Disgraced by all else.

I thought I knew.
It was black and white.
My North was meddled with by thieves.
Now it is grey.

You don't mind, do you?