Years later of this day,
Shall you claim of knowing me,
Refrain from doing so,
Lie not so blatantly,
Because you haven't stayed long enough,
You may have seen my skin,
Not the ageing of my bones,
As the barks of trees,
You perhaps see scars,
Not my battles with my fears.
Like wilting leaves of my branches,
You may have seen my hair,
Not, the hair pulled off,
Like ripping of the grass in chagrin,
You may have witnessed a struggle,
But not the numerous seasons,
Or the birth, process, death, any of it,
You saw me frail, not healing or conquering,
Like a seedling, growing, evolving,
You may have seen a tear or two,
But none of the waterfall, each night,
You may have had a glimpse of thrills,
Not the stars, studded in my darkness
You may have seen my summer or winter or rain,
Not the thunderstorms, hurricanes, floods, drought, you haven't.
You saw me laugh heartily,
But scorned my sadness,
And left with a piece of my heart,
Like plucking away a flower as a trophy,
Know! I didn't bloom for you,
Since you didn't appreciate my pain,
You weren't worth staying,
Nor to know me, my seasons, my life.

You were a trespasser,
Peaking through a thin den
Witnessing so little of me,
To call me a lifetime,
You may have heard my lies,
But you didn't hear my thoughts,
Like a silent conversation with my branches,
You know of a beauty some know,
Not the one that's buried beneath.
You haven't seen me, or known me either,
Hence the prayer I send,
Of not tarnishing me with limitations,
Speak not of me, any good or bad,
Hold your peace tomorrow and forever.
~Dreamer
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