Dry Wood

There was a cold before a time
A place so numb
Some never had shoes for their feet’s sake.
The life was dry and so denied
No words left
Some never had shoes to warm their way

Forget the trace among the forces, but never the words.
We sing fast to remember what we say
We’re not a project, a body needs tree shaped lung
And maybe, the city trails can show us how they burn.

A letter touch, a metaphor, rewrite old flames
Perhaps the cell belongs to mental world
We walk across the illness of a brand new State.
And maybe, we won't become a dry wood from the work

Someday, we’ll turn back to the land we were born and raised
Away, we spent some time, we aim to keep afloat
So we pray, for those who lost the chances on the road