The Family Tree

The scorching sun

Once had a tender warmth

Soaked in a mild milieu

Our little jaunts were fun

Darkness seeps through its heart

Obsession has overpowered love

Sweet taste has bitterness now

The bearing fruits have begun to rot

Is it possessed by evil

Or our inner demons have stepped out

Curse, it seems has done the deed

The end is near and inevitable

I lower my hand

To feel the boughs,

The yellow leaves that still cling

Much like my torn wrist band

Give me back those birds thee,

As I cry over my abandoned family tree.