Skinned Knees

I’m tired of sifting through 
the hand humanity dealt 
me and pricking myself
on dead pine needles. 

I’m tired of misfortunate 
spells of melancholy,
those idled mournings 
spent in the forest. 

The world needs too 
much from me,
– breathe in,
and much less from
others. 
– breathe out. 

I’m still tired, though.  
You skin your knees a little 
and mother nature just
takes it as an invitation 
to slip right in
and set her roots. 

BIATA

Leave a Reply

Please log in using one of these methods to post your comment:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s