Self-Esteem Poem by Charlie Bain

The tree spirals upward
Her roots in the ground
Holding her steady
As her branches reach above

The leaves and the flowers
Produce the sweetest of fruits
But the occasional bad apple
Gives her good ones bad name

As time ventures forward
The roots grow deeper
The trunk grows stronger
The fruits grow in number

Though the fruits are the product
That spawn her decedents
Her roots keep her standing
Alive and strong

The woodsman comes by
And marks out the forest
The trees with the best wood
To be cut into homes

The houses of the infidel
The places where they thrive
Are the places where the beauty
Was destroyed for the ignorant

She is market with scarlet letter
To be cut in the 'morrow
She cannot hide herself
Or run from what she is

So by sunrise, she's destroyed
To house the destructive human
Pulled her up by her roots
So she'll never grow again

Where a forest once stood
So strong and gallant
Now lies the pavement
The grey, lifeless plane.