Drunk, dumb, & dull. "He'll have his last laugh with his suffering!"

I see the campfire lighting
The skeletal trees
In this grey mass
I stand back
Hidden in the hills
A silhouette lost amongst the darkness
I wondered if she had received my letters
A secret to keep
To herself
Or no on else
No one
So I bit my tongue
Bled it to water the seeds
See if the tree grows
The wind blows
Carries them elsewhere
Some place
Close to me
Or in a far thought
Somewhere I'd forgot
That would be worth reliving
To give a gentle feeling
Be kind
& take it upon myself
To walk the hills
And stay true
Till I'd make a mention
So soberly
To myself
In whispers
Of disrespect
:There'd be a guillotine:
A shadow of an execution
And a perfectly played part
By a head rolling