Uprooted

I wonder what she’d say would she stare in wonder? cry in disdain? Fear for my fickle bones. When her child is rested into her flesh No more than fertilizer, giving for the last time. Will the earth mourn me? And does this creature of ancient bones and colossal mystery know how we think of her? are we simply ants long her back If she could think, could see would she even notice me would she understand my sorrows and tell me that i am allowed to weep My tears recycle into my skin and one day in my grave My tears will water the roots That were left for you Tell me tales of tumbleweeds and moss The roots they lack and how they run Not meant to stay, always free That i was not these plants. “There are some who can live wild no consistency, constant movement and thats the best way for them to survive but you, my dear, are a fragile flower you were cut from your roots and you’ve been slowly drying out and now you can return to the earth just a little longer you might regrow your roots” I haven't written in an incredibly long time so this is far from good, but I missed writing here and just writing in general, so enjoy whatever this is.