given

sooner or later leaves will strain their connection to their deep rooted better halves,
they'll flee for freedom, but the weightless feeling is the overwhelming sensation before they feel the crash,
and it's a mortuary, a cemetary of crisp vacant dreamers,
unfufilled but strong willed,
they lean so far left until all bonds collapse sending them off into some purpose
the whirl,
the push towards the unsure, it come with hesitation, but that's just the push and pull, things won't come quick enough speeding to death's door, birthed to a burial with family and neighbors from next door.
nothing's really sad at all, in fact it's quie beautiful the scars and wrinkles as they form,
the folds of baby fat that flatten out and grow strong, till it gives in to itself tightens is smoked, taut and torn, and then the body goes back sleep the same as before birth,
it's as you awake for the longest day on earth and return to sleep, but in that sleep you are dust.