There's no one here that I can trust
They're either miles away, or stiff with rust
Festering under control
Of this stagnant pool that we call home
There's no way out, there's no way in
We're born into this emptiness
And trust is placed onto our backs
That we'll find our way
We'll draw our maps

And I'm trying
To branch out
But my roots are most of me

I notice things when I'm away
Your microscopic day-to-day
The insignificance of you
There's nothing grand that you say or do
But when I'm gone, there's part of me
That stays behind in your country
With golden light, and the weeping trees
And parasites upon the leaves

And I'm trying
To branch out
But my roots are most of me

You grow outwards, every which way
You don't need my love, but it's yours anyway
And the more I watch, the more I'm okay
If this tangled mess is all we create

And I'm trying
To branch out
But my roots are most of me

Draw Your Map (Work-in-progress)

Jonah.Atkins