The Sycamore

You’re the sycamore

You proudly sway

As the old bark peels away

Like shedding skin I can’t begin

To notice this is your mistake

The lighter that I got the more that

People all around me

They would all say how much better that

They thought that I was doing

And they looked and

They would compliment me with their eyes

But they had no idea they had fallen for my game

When the sun comes up

I hardly feel anything

When the sun comes up

I hardly feel anything

The symptoms that I see

Come more frequently

Your arms reached out to me

Like tired branches on the tree

There’s so little left

Of your body there to squeeze

But the questions had no answers

So I passed the time

Napkins folded into lines

Hands were shaking

I’m just fine

Don’t take me for my word

Was not for me to say

Whispers that I heard

They just taking me away

When the sun comes up

I hardly feel anything