The broom tree was my last resort,
A place so alone in the wilderness
Without water or good, completely alone
As vultures wheeled above, waiting for
My last breath. You aren’t seen either
And though I followed your words,
The despair has still taken a hold of
My weak heart and I am finished.
The darkness inside is too vile to
Allow you near and I just want to
Doe, so don’t bother finding me in the
Harsh, desert wasteland. No, why are
You coming out here, walking my way?
A raven with food, stream softly
Winding near me, gifts I take grudgingly;
I’m still sick and broken, you know.
You’d best leave me in my shame.
No, why are you still here, as
I cry a thousand tears and more,
Yet still, you wait, watching over me.
Is there hope? Can my feet leave
This place to the cave where
We will meet? DO you truly want
Me, waiting until I am not full
Of my despairing, selfish thoughts?
Will I leave this place alive?
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