Nails in my Trunk

I'm not one of the good ones.
I'm not a noble elder oak standing tall.
I'm the too-old too-gnarled willow
Too lost in the green for lumber camps,
Too deep for any trail but the deer's
And yet, here you are,
Wailing beneath my tendrils under a full moon
Because attachment is suffering
And you, mortal, are suffering.
You heard a spell from a loose-lipped granny,
And that witch wasn't lying,
So take the metal spikes from your pack.
You know what to do.
I'm not one of the good ones,
But you don't want a good one,
One so blessed by the light it blinds them
So they squeal when you hold them accountable
So they squirm when you tell them the truth
So they call you the villain when you hurt.
You don't want a good one.
Tonight, you want the void to gaze back.
You don't care if they call you evil now.
A grim grin curls on your lips at the thought:
If they call us monsters, then let us be monstrous.
So let us begin:
Whisper your pain to the first nail
Then place it at the center of my oldest knot
And let the deep wood witness the hammer's thud.
Beside your own fresh offering,
Dozens of rusted pins and rivets glint in the moonlight
For vengeance is an ancient motive
And when it was born, I was already feared.
Now, to the second nail, whisper your desire.
Fame? Let monarchs say your name with respect
If only because they heard it in a nightmare.
Wealth? Let gold flock to you like flies to meat
If only to feast on your greed.
But this time, you want the tried-and-true classic:
You want justice that hurts them back.
Thud. Thud. Thud. Let it be so.
But just as the granny told you,
You brought one more nail.
Tell it my price: your hate.
Sink it into me. Let me have it.
You don't need it, mortal.
Why would you grace the good ones
With something so blessed as your fire?
I've survived a thousand infernos;
They are how I grow.
Your iron tacks join the many in my flesh
As the midnight wind shifts my branches like hair,
As if I were shaking with laughter.
Go now. Leave it all behind.
Your pain. Your desire. Your hate.
Return home. Sleep soundly in a warm bed.
Dream no more of your enemies.
I will do the rest.