Ask from me

Ask from me
not for me,
for i am tree,

in whose hood
bees of sadness
have casted a beehive,
which sting all
whether friend or foe
with the sting's of misery
and forever afterwards
there is no relieve

on whose branches
are uncounted
thrones of pain
you cannot see
which if you touch
inflict a wound so deep
that you will die
with days of bloody bleed

in whose mound
thousand of snakes
of long held grudges
keep and sleep
forever looking
for a prey to bite
to release the venom
held from long
in their sharp teeth

so if you want good
take this much care
its must and you should:
be together sing and dance
have the fruits of company
enjoy the honey of sweet words
which sometimes i speak
but ask from me not for me.