Skyward pines

Under the trampled feet of the ghosts of the forest.
We lay in the soil, safe for a century.
Soaking the world in.
We turn away from forever, looking into the eyes of life.
Shooting skyward.
Oceans away from the city of conformity.
An exquisiteness that waivers every day. At the whim of the winds.
We are the pines.
Skeletons in season, breaking beauty as we trail the atmosphere.
Still as the tomb of tomorrow.
We watch the forest shiver and shake to a human beat.
Still with a taste of god in our mouths, breathing in his breath.
Dancing in the darkness as the world sleeps.
These pines.
Waiting once more to be cut down by those seeking our answers.
To get at the truth, down in our roots.

Human

Where is that holding hand, as I slip through the sand of regret?
Being merely human falls flat at your well-trodden feet.
The ones that walked on my back time and time again.
Do you care if my soul survives this?
Scratching away the scars to save yourself.
These sad tears of remorse carve a path down my broken bones.
Crashed through the barrier as I pushed my foot to the floor.
You flew away to save yourself. You left me there dying.
I gave my all and fell short.
Closing my eyes to the judgement that I cannot live up to.
So easy to throw the page away.
To burn the books.
So tired of being only human.