Willow Tree

Why am I here? On this world where no one cares about what I say or do. Willow trees to my back, water surrounds me, darkness rises. Secrets fly away on the wind, when they know they should stay close, like the little flowers that bloom at the bottom of the tree. Light falls, but so does rain, like tears on the Willow tree. I make things awkward with my presence. Why am I like this? I want to climb to the top of the tree and be all alone, where everything is so much better. By myself, where insanity overrides the loneliness.