*mother Poem by Christopher's Dead

Mother, what do we owe?
What is the price for ingesting self-prescribed maintenance against the grain?
What have we done:
You watch as the intimate bond of trust is broken
Some tug at the hems of your dress
While others rip out your limbs at the roots
All for one unsatisfactory lapse
A mere déjà vu of love replacement
What we don’t show each other we make up for by taking from you
Always so caught up in our small pretentious bubbles
Missing the bigger picture
We’re slowly killing you
It will take more than one less than enthused tree
And already our protection has weakened
Mother, what do we owe
What is the price of our greed
And where do we turn
When the last leaf has fallen?