the morning
locked inside a dark cloud
the raindrops
the metal bars

I’m downtrodden
fertilising the trees with my sadness

the desolation shoved into
a single day
while outside
the low pressure brewed a storm

as you point your finger at my face
say
you self-inflicting fool
made me realise 
for how long have I been 
fearful of human interactions
I’m talking to the trees
the grass the bees

I’m some deadbeat maybe
a mistake, born in the middle of a city
finding myself yearning for elsewhere
each time the flowers 
in my garden
bloom.