Put in your tap and bleed me freely
I’m the Giving Tree. One with the willows
I weep and whisp where the wind will blow me.
Singing my sad song into the breeze.
Testing the best contents and decrees.
I am one with the birches, akin to the maples.
Swayed by forgiveness as the screw twists,
tap in, I’ll give you sap for cleansing,
offer my canopy to cover you…
The life-giving sweetness bleed me slowly
By all means, take what flows from me,
indeed it bruises but it must be.
Come and go as you please,
until carelessness costs you dearly.
Dip in as needed but you better believe,
drinking casually ends in casualties.
So choose me gratefully, or lose me.
Cure me with competence, or good riddance.
Banish the bitter taste with greater things.
Burn the cankerworms eating away at my branches.
Rid me of those demanding more,
lest they rot core with flippant behavior.
I’m the giving tree, I’ll give all of me but not to these.
… I’m screaming through my roots for a savior.
A quake through the forest to take us away.
Angry its’ spirit shivers awake, time to burn the fake.
Because quietly, I continue to take all I can take.
A new leaf turns lest I break, the underbelly yawns awake.
Each new day offering me the opportunity
to fight the desire to breathe fire until the set date.
Dreaming new dreams of smoke taking oxygen away.
Resistance costs everything my petals fall one by one, undone.
No more left, naked, on the run until spirited away.
In the end, swine coming for sweet syrup
… only to find I have nothing left to say.
Great expectations leaving with disappointed cups…
The point of no return, I’d rather die than give it up.
Not another drop of the treasure inside will go to the flies.
The last of this syrup is reserved for my king…
This giving tree’s running on empty.