Forests grow and die

Now I have begun to disappoint you 

Unremittingly so 

I no more play the perfect girl

No more do i shudder inside perfect smiles

Where i dissembled and died

I have perfected this art of dying 

Without you ever noticing my deaths

How many times I died and heard voices whispering over my grave 

To be woken up by mornings and birds that cry

I do not know what frightens you more

My beaked shrill 

Or the memory of loyalty that you will behold no more

Now that you too have begun to disappoint me

Let us practice abandonment 

from the sound of calm footsteps that fade and return

Till forests grow and die