I'll go long
For the longly ways that westward fall in shade
And slowly wept the willow trees of wind which swept apart the blind
The hungry, the beaten things which mistaken for roots
Were ways which didn't pick the placement
She slowly gave away the pieces of her body
To its friends
And there was nothing left when they were done
You could have mistaken her
In the empty night
Like a prayer for forgiveness
For whatever it was, was done
