The last tree

At the beginning of my poetry time

I recited my first rhyme

the words 

the beats 

it all makes since to me 

but I realized my time wasn't free 

and it was up to me 

to save the last tree

the air was scuked from my lungs

as I sang my last songs

when the last candle is lit 

all alone under the tree I sit

 

This poem is about: 
Me

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