In My Soul

a poem by Melyssa G. Sprott, USA - poetry writer, author, poet


All your leaves are rusty—
all your branches dead.
Your bark is cold and lonely,
I deserve this fate instead.

The icy chill,
this frigid breeze.
You bear it brittle—
this bitter disease.

All your leaves are gone,
all your branches cracked.
Winter is forever—
spring is never coming back.

A shattering frost,
an unfathomable cold—
you look on the outside
how I feel in my soul.

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