• Slicing. . . red skin. . . crunchy, juicy, soft. . . black is the color of my skin.
    The light, it disappears.
    Wet? I feel the wet soak through my body, It screams in PAIN. I can feel my body growing.
    Legs. . Hands? . . A head to call my own. I spring through this unbearable wall.
    The breeze is nice. People? Yes that's what they are called. So many unique ideals.
    Flawless you could say, yet they live by every little crack and mistake.

    Patching up themselves just so everyone can be the same. .
    same...
    Young ones, they come to me smiling happily. Hugs. Kisses.

    P . . a . . k o l. . . e . . a

    Pa? kolea?
    Pākōlea?

    Carved into my skin. The name i will bear. Be proud of.

    As years pass by we all do the same. We grow and learn. Grow. Learn.
    New things. Old things. Many things to share and tell.

    Whispers of growing love shaded neath the raspy voices of the willows.
    The time goes by in a blink of an eye and yet now i know it . .
    i'm the oldest of old that you could get.

    I hear people.
    "This one's a good size, eh?"
    Good size?
    "Yeah, be ready. It'll go soon, uhm... Pākōlea?"
    The name bestowed to me..

    Then the Pain is screams again.
    Knives, Axes sliding peacefully into my skin. Bringing what was once tall to shards of small...broken.....fragments.

    Yet the time flew by, NO. I did not waste it. Memoirs of the past FLING
    One by one through my dying head.
    The young ones mourn as i fall to the ground.
    Weeping.
    Sadly.
    Hope.

    Though I was gone i had a spirit in this world.
    One not recognized by the fear of people but the hope that they still had left.
    And if i had any last regret as long as i've EVER lived my life . .
    it'd be this..
    I'd just wished that one day I had seen that people live in harmony,
    Not living by the flaws and patches that cover up your ugly,
    those not afraid to shine i dearly whisper in your ears. .
    never was i once shame of these fruit and leaves that i bear.
    Nor the spoken whispers that were never delivered to your ears:

    E Ola, live .. . .

    As i did as a lonely tree. Bearing whatever emotion came to me.
    Winds,
    Storms,
    The sun,
    One of the best friends in life and
    Smiles.....
    For I have now:

    No regrets...