Isolation and defeat. |
Atop a lonely barren hill, within an open field, weathered, burnt, the clouds descend, stripped nearly naked, alone, no shield. Approaching fast, his storm, a horrid rain, relentless, with no end, planted firm, no escape, facing the hurricane. A target for his deadly force, his wind against my tree, firm, a little bend, repetition takes its toll, tomorrow may not be. Soft and gentle, loving, it did once seem, oh deceptive breeze, my friend, so isolated now, misguided, oh a fiend. One by one, to the ground, the last leaves fall, a cycle, this trend, submission, finally you've taken it all. |