The speaker looks inward and watches the mind at work, picturing thoughts as fruit that blooms and drops. Some return to the earth and become something new. Others rot, turn to waste, or land in a dark forest and grow thorns. The twisted shapes and sounds the poem describes suggest that not every thought stays healthy once it leaves the mind.
Then the poem turns outward with questions. Will beauty last if feelings fade? If I say you've misunderstood me, will you simply claim you know what I mean? These lines suggest a worry about being understood, and about how easily communication fails.
The last question, "why write a poem / no one will read?", feels quiet and a little defeated. The mood is reflective and uncertain, with loneliness underneath. The scattered spacing on the page seems to echo the drifting, falling thoughts, leaving the reader with a doubt the speaker cannot settle.