The weeping willow cries its leaves over
The overflowing river of tears
As it wilts it gives its last condolences
"Remember me in my glory and I will remember you by your story"
And although you may not have much of a story that can be known
It can be said new stories are formed by the mere thought of living
As long as there is one person who keeps my mere existence engraved in their minds
Engraved in their soul and their hearts
It can be said that I will forever live on
Even if one day I'm wilting and dying
Even if my leaves are now falling
Even if I will forever be remembered as the weeping willow and you will be forgotten as merely another lost soul
One weeps of grieve
One weeps of pain
Others simply weep because that is all they can do to show sentiment
Let it be known that although I may weep
No one is there to comfort me
Yet I create a canopy over your head
Shading you from infinite rays
Never asking for your sympathy
Never asking to be acknowledged
I'm simply there for you as I provided you with the oxygen you breathe
Oh the irony!
I may be weeping
You may be dying
But I still provided you with the means of existence that you have thrown away
And what have you done for me?
Made me feel important
Made me feel useless as I watch your lifeless body
Called me a fool for weeping isn't seen as acceptable to most
But perhaps weeping isn't all that foul as it's put out to be
Without weeping how would one know they are living?
It's another means of knowing they are capable of feeling emotion
So why make one a fool at their time of living?
They're weeping for grieve at the thought they are living!
Because living isn't anything made of gold but rather iron that rusts
Leaving a foul taste at the mouth,
Touching you with the upmost coldness
And poisons you until you can no longer breathe
So as I shelter you from the pain
My weeping providing you tears for shade
I will remember the story of the girl that thought drowning herself by the weeping willow,
Will provide her the home she never could afford
The girl that made me feel important,
The girl that carried the thought of my existence with her,
The girl who I couldn't save but tried to protect until her last dying breath
And as I weep over her memory,
I call myself the weeping willow
