The apple, doesn’t fall far from the tree.
So I grapple, with what’s lodged in me.
His psalms were sung yet, He’s never shown.
Damned seed bore fruit, made my lungs a home.
Scales in my throat, I feel like I’ve croaked.
Barely even breathing, so we never spoke.
The pain it became, my favourite joke.
Are they roots, or are they branches?
Can’t tell up from down, so I take my chances.
While she prays, for me to see light.
I’ve fallen prey to hell. Let the demons take a bite.
The owl can hide inside the trunk.
But I can’t hide and so I’ve shrunk.
Buddha’s palm can’t clap alone.
Lucifer’s arm rested on my bones.
Heavy are the sins not mine to atone.
📸: jyuntay
