Sowing

the seeds are first planted so long ago no one remembers and even then they are
barely scuffed into the dry barren soil. they wont and cant grow when the sun shines hot and there is no rancor to shade them. but one day the sun doesnt shine and that day a little withered green sprout pokes up between the dust of doubt and fear. when the sun returns full blast the next day the sprout is forced to take refuge behind a clump of careless comment and barely survives. another day, the tears shed water the ground and the sprout gleefully drinks it all in. the sun fades as winter approaches and soon there are only part days of sunshine and somedays non at all. other dust settles and every now and then some dirt is thrown around and before you know it there is quite a nice little tree growing there. cept the tree isnt nice...its the tree of death. its the symbol of the end of the relationship. frequent tears water it and the lies fertilize the tree. dirt flung back and forth inevitably falls to the ground and gives the tree more substance to anchor its roots in. soon its such a strong tree that it begins to take over. first the yard then shades the home. its branches brush and tear at the eaves, its roots fracture the foundation and its leaves pile up and decay everywhere. soon the home is only a house and then all too soon no one is left in it at all. the last one to stumble out doesnt even bother to close the door. in his haste he stumbles over a tree root and falls to the ground. moaning holding his bruised knee he glares up at the tree. i should have cut you down when i had the chance he curses aloud. stunned he hears the tree reply, no, you should never have planted my seed in the first place.