Lumber

Thank you for your honesty

but honestly

this openness is not for me.

You've thrown my brain a bombshell of a seed

which grips at my temples and grows

into a rotten tangle of weeds

and I don't like what I see.

I've never been good at tackling the roots,

I just chop away at the surface,

and so up again my sadness shoots

taking a hold of my overactive head,

oh why can't it just let me be?

Now I'm not so sure if I have the tools

to rid myself of this terrible mess

and my pride hates to be made a fool

and yes, I wear my heart in my chest

but it's always looking to jump over the fences

one day I'll find an axe for this hideous tree.