The Bitter Seed
I sowed a seed in shadow's gloom,
A whisper nursed within my room.
Its roots grew deep, its branches wide,
Yet still, my secret lay inside.
Beneath the moon, the tree took shape,
Its fruits of envy, fear, and hate.
Each leaf, a thorn; each bough, a snare,
Yet none would see what lingered there.
A neighbor came, with eyes so bright,
He gazed upon the tree by night.
I watched him pluck a gleaming fruit,
And saw his joy take bitter root.
He bit, he wept, he cried my name,
But still, I hid, and felt no shame.
The seed I sowed, its tale now told,
Its fruit bore truths both dark and cold.
So guard the thoughts you let take hold,
For bitter seeds yield trees of old.
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