By Taryn Pecile
Trees branch out like capillaries; they run tangled, yet looted, proof of life rich sap carries. Villains see mines to be left rooted with dying leaves, some dynamics leave. Trees branch out like capillaries. The louder often give presence to muted, true with colors, voices, and what they thieve, proof of rich life sap carries. History doesn’t always dictate paths suited for what past left: something to grieve. Trees branch out like capillaries. Breaking pine needles renders more polluted; thoughts of constancy are primary and naïve, proof of rich life sap carries. Arteries leading veins create roads routed, part of what’s leading pain is how to believe. Trees branch out like capillaries, proof of life rich sap carries.
Taryn Pecile is from a little town called Drums, Pennsylvania. She graduated in 2020 with a major in psychology and a minor in writing. In her free time, she enjoys singing and hanging out with her friends. She has been writing poetry since she was eleven years old. The Lost Months, Therapy