the more i think i grow,
the less i seem to know
i stretch from the ground
as though i were a rose
emerging from the concrete

these thoughts sprout
into blooming trees
the branches are twisted
and crooked, and within the trunk
there is a marking designating two
souls intertwined

(the z is weathered away
so merely the o remains)

the more i think i grow,
the less i seem to know