They say troubles come in three’s;

I say troubles grow on trees.

Smoke billows ‘round weeping willows

All is silent on the tear-stained pillow.

In a young man’s room, where shadows promise comfort,

The loneliness of the Middle dampens every effort

To be more than just a byproduct of lust and desire;

To be more than a pawn’s head placed upon a spire.


They say troubles come in three’s

I say troubles grow on trees.

Shelters are prisons and forts are cages;

Punishments plus smiles are offered as wages.

Insensitively screaming “You think you got the stuff?!”

To the boy that dared to say “Dad, that’s enough!”

Other-worldly strength hidden behind weakness.

The strength of a man behind involuntary meekness.


They say troubles come in three’s

I say troubles grow on trees.

Yet there’s hope in the strain

And priceless is the gain

When one survives the storm

And goes against the norm.

For a man most succeeds

When troubles grow on trees.


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