In this hard brutality of life who knows if they want to fight? Usually I will bend, like a tree on a mountainside, either bend or brake, be flexible, that is my advice. An autumn storm is approaching I can feel it. Take shelter now if you can. Forgotten is my pride, if I ever had one, for the slightest wind I bend. Forgive me for my weakness, for my flexible heart. Sap hammering throughout my veins, eyelashes trembling like aspen leaves.