It wasn’t real, that connection you held up like something rare. It was only your restless emptiness reaching outward, never inward where truth lived. There was something in you, a rare kind of wrongness, not loud, but steady, growing in the quiet corners You refused to clean. Your habits sank deep, roots of neglect and excuse, feeding on your comfort, tightening around any chance of becoming better. Inside your chest, something lingered, not wounded, but slowly rotting from everything you chose not to face. Your words carried weight, but not wisdom, dirty with judgment, falling on others as if they owed you effort You would never give yourself. You dreamed wildly, expected greatly, Yet moved nowhere. Laziness sat in you like spring, fresh, alive, growing stronger each day You chose not to change. And so you became a tree, Not shaped by storms, but by stillness. Not broken, but unused. A tree that stands alone, roots deep in wasted time, branches stretched with empty wants, leaves gree...
In the heart of the forest, where silence speaks,
Lions walk softly on sunlit creeks.
Elephants remember every scar,
Their lives were shaped gently by land and star.
The eagle rides on the breath of the sky,
Seeing truths no ground-bound eye can deny.
The wolf moves with loyalty, fierce yet fair,
Bound by respect for the pack they share.
Nature teaches without written law,
Balance and survival, wonder and awe.
Each creature takes only what it must,
Living by instinct, not hunger for dust.
Yet beyond the wild, in the cities of stone,
Walks a person whose heart has grown cold as bone.
They rise on the backs of unheard cries,
Trading compassion for power and lies.
They see not the pain in another’s face,
Only mirrors reflecting their own embrace.
Where animals share, this soul divides,
Building walls from wounded lives.
The wild remains honest, brutal yet true,
Life and death in a cycle we all pass through.
But injustice is chosen, crafted by hand,
A wound upon soul, not nature or land.
Perhaps one day, beneath open skies,
That person will learn from the wild’s quiet eyes—
That fairness is strength, not loss or fear,
And life grows richer when justice lives here.
© 2025 Gloria Penelope
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