Burnt Black Petals

There is a small plant that sits on the corner of my life.

It is a tough little plant;
I have not watered it.
I do not give it soil, but I do take it, and throw it to the wind.

You succeeded but you failed
You succeeded but you failed
You succeeded
You succeeded but you failed

You are above their bar and below yours
You survived but you do not celebrate

They say you reached for the stars.

Please don't leave me, you dying songbird.

Your song is still beautiful, no matter the notes, no matter the order
Please don't leave your rusting cage via shoebox, friend.

It was an oldest web of understanding, in which the enviorment basked equilibrium.
The web was strong and supported by each generation, constantly improved where that could be done.
Snipping a strand and spinning one stronger,

            He was in the middle of the pine trees, their scent mingled with wet dirt. I could see him just breathing these shallow, exaderated breaths as if doing so would make it real.

I've been thinking about the world
Everywhere its like cracked clay
Shards are cutting me
Yet they paint.
Struggle to survive but I have many luxuries I don't even use.
To keep my soul (self?) alive but I have the ingriedients.