I liken myself to a tree,
not one sitting on a shelf anxiously waiting to be chosen,
delicately removed, and planted in a cul-de-sac.
rather, one that sprouted serendipitously;
slowly swimming upward toward sunlight
until it reached the canopy of the likeminded;
towering over trodden trails
and the undiscovered;
collecting whispers of those who pass by;
whispering, whistling wind grazes me.
I shake and shudder,
in sync with all the trees around me, but
I grow unnoticed in a sea of those doing the same—
unattached; unabraded; unobserved.
if I fall,
and no one is there to hear my screams,
do I even make a sound?

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