Irony cactus

Alone and dry

the cactus is the solid eye

standing still in the middle of the sand

the rain ignores its reaching hands

the cactus looks up for support

as its dehydration makes the clouds contort

and the sand turns into the sea

but the moisture is not where it is supposed to be

it taunts him inside the sky

his own mind tricks him with dripping lies

and even when the clouds do rain

they leave a dry circumference around his pain

so the still cactus can not move

to the water that will hydrate his cracks to smooth

his pores are hungry and filled with infection

and he knows this even though he doesn't see his reflection

and then the loneliness plays at his brain

as the illusions he sees begin to drain

the sanity within his mirage

begins to grow fingers and starts to massage

his green arms and green hands

although he has green thumbs he can't plant his friends

although his roots are buried in the ground

all he finds are the dry mounds

so his wasted effort to grow down further

makes his destruction draw in nearer

a large cactus he is though

even though the top of the sand does not show

because the clouds above would not lend

he en rooted his other hands inside the sand he did send

and a colony of himself survives

under the borrows in intersecting hives

and they grow knots within themselves

when there is no more moisture their effort sells

and they tie to eventually die

as each root grows to long and crinkles up with a  sigh

and even though the cactus is not aware

there is a pool of liquid living in a lair

so close but yet so far

because he has abandoned the sky it is his new star

and it shines so bright within its grasp

but all the roots avoid it by a tiny clasp

he defeats himself because he is too stubborn

he wont drill west only sticks to the southern

and he is so far down it begins to heat

from the tip of his hands to his desert seat

and then he reaches the magma core

and as his hands touch it he feels it sore

and the magma takes up this ride

the straight path up that the cactus confide

within it all of its hope

now he himself has become a flammable rope

and as the magma shoots up like a spear

he uses his last bit of life to shed a tear

and then the fire spreads

through the hands his aspiration lead

and then the sand around the dry pastor

became mirrors and glass reflecting his disaster

and then as it neared the top

an explosion occurred sideways in pop

and the water on the side

joined the fire in its wicked ride

and together it made steam

made more earth in its natural scheme

and a large pillar rose

through the plant now disposed

a solid shape a solid form

a spear so high it broke psychological norm

and it pierced the sneering clouds

and as they were sliced they rained down liquid to drown

all of their sorrow

of having no tomorrow

the rain then made a sea

over the marriage the cactus once thought

it was an illusion he once did see

now a dream on top of his reality spot

and in the middle stood his finger

one long sign pointed up that lingered

it stood as a stake

of all the dead clouds now floating in the lake

and as his soul rose up from the spear

he grew wings and began to pear

at his deadly act

that he did not on purpose enact

but he was confused of the outcome

his feelings ended up coming out numb

he saw all the death created

that his trying to survive had accidentally sedated

the clouds that used to make fun

of his suffering under the burning sun

but was a beautiful scene

as the colors of the lake reflected the sky and the solidity of the rock

made him feel a-filled with an emotional shock

then he looked up to where he was a float

imagining a heavenly coat

and this is just what he received

he became a cloud in which he had relieved

O the irony on his face

when he realized what he had replaced