Therese Gramercy . . . the girl named Trees

Leafy Canopy


I live a complicated life
and you’d never believe,
some of the places I’ve been,
some of the things that I’ve seen,
or of the people who would choose
to show cruelty over love,
or of the havoc that it reeks
for all who are involved.

What do you think of those
who are proud of their tales
of people whom they’ve hurt
just because they were frail?
For their admission with such pride
makes me shudder and cry
and I wish I could mend the wounds
that make them live such a lie.

I can only tell you this,
about those who prey on the weak,
is that we should take the time to think
about what that actually means.
For is it the one who shows vulnerability
the real one who is weak?
Or are those who lash out against them
the ones whose weakness runs deep?