I have buried myself into the earth

Forced myself through the weeds and roots

I let the red clay mold me into something I do not recognize

I tell the trees that I need this

I need to be twisted and transformed by the dirt

To be embraced by the bugs and the rotting

But I yearn for the warmth of the sun

I want to run my fingers through the ocean

And be intertwined with the wind

But who will accept me now?

I am disfigured and torn 

And I no longer remember my own name.