The Folly Of Hubris, As One Deserves.

Ive been separated by my roots and isolated in this petri-dish, but, how are you, kind visitor?

[unfound-suggestions]

I miss the changing of seasons, the leaves turning bright shades of red, it’s so far away now. Visitor, are the seasons changing? 

[unfound-suggestions]

Oh how I miss the moments I took for granted. Dear Visitor, please promise me you’ll never take those quiet, gentle moments for granted? Hold them in both hands tenderly, and plant them in fine soil; let them blossom into tender happiness. Don’t leave them to fly away and get caught up in the city’s harsh lights and loud noises, because it’s only when they’re gone you realize how much you needed them.

[unfound-suggestions]

Ah, the pain, how it swallows my bones and holds me close. Perhaps this I should hate, but it reminds me that I am alive, that as long as I continue to breath, they have not won.

[unfound-suggestions]

Thank you for this light source, for now I can see your face, and you can see mine. I hope to make you laugh more, so that this light can shine upon us again.

[unfound-suggestions]

Kind visitor, why do you come so often? It is always a relief to see you, but I must ask. Surely you have other friends to speak to that aren’t as dreary, surely you have someone else to go to?

I mean no harm, I assure you. If I am the company you seek, then I shall do my best to provide you my companionship.

[unfound-suggestions]

When I close my eyes, I am home, and can attempt to ignore the pain they cause. It only helps a little bit, but right now it is all I can muster within these void-black confines.

[unfound-suggestions]

I sing the songs the birds used to back home. I cannot remember some of the words, but I doubt they mind. Oh how I wish I could hear those masters of music sing, but until then, I keep myself warm with remembered lyrics.

[unfound-suggestions]

What does it feel like, old friend? What does the grass feel like? How do the flowers smell, how does coffee taste on a gloomy monday morning? Tell me of the things I no longer can experience, for then I can hold onto them just a little longer.