I wish I could explain how I feel. Its deep rooted in sadness. Like stems and roots clogged in damp sand. Pulling the soil to the surface. Dragging the threads hoping to uncover the source of the root. Been pulling for all my life. Nothing has surfaced. The source has not been found. My palm slit open. Seasons haven't changed. Its hot. No one is around. Where am I going? At least its peaceful. Its quiet. No one ever comes by. I haven't seen a soul in years. Maybe this is paradise.
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