Neither pansies nor bees know the big yellow trees and the horrors they hold inside. Horrors so small, they fit in us all, and live until we have died. A green tree is better, the horrors don’t get her, but oh how the horrors have lied. If somehow you find her, sit down beside her, and tell her about how I have cried.
Neither pansies nor bees know the big yellow trees and the horrors they hold inside. Horrors so small, they fit in us all, and live until we have died. A green tree is better, the horrors don’t get her, but oh how the horrors have lied. If somehow you find her, sit down beside her, and tell her about how I have cried.


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