Do roots run deeper...?

Difference.
Fettered trees and phantoms in dark night,
treated as infants in the moon bright.
Tears of sap and drops of blood
litter soil so dejected and loved.
Sympathetic glance and scornful glare,
neither padded with actual care.
The puppets of one and all trying to be
the one who holds the only key.

Hatred.
Often times they've felt the pierce
of another's opinions held so fierce.
Geared to shun and mock and goad
by hideous poisons all have swallowed.
Pride and oppression hand-in-hand
making the basin a worse land.
Death a cure to all who view
this spherical, fruitless, mechanical feud.

Grief.
Many have fallen to the other's weapon preferred,
whether this magic, fae, sword or the tongue's word.
Several have the bitter taste of fell loss,
they have cried; weathered the heavy cost
it tolls on your mind as life is snuffed yet again;
spouse before brethren and after a friend.
It feels slow and lazy, yet its stabs are whipped and brief,
and so are they pushed by hysterical grief.

So I ask you, can they still exist?
Can our friendship be underlying?
Swiftly passing undetected under the inner sea?
Sly in flowing, the cities and divine unknowing,
Even though we've dug and dug and tore out every relationship we've had
together?
Do roots run deeper than that?
Do the forests of the north and south still stand a chance?
Do the roots run deep enough?