The Tree

I live and I breath; 

dance in the breeze. 

I am on it the Earth,

I stretch up to the sun.


I am tall, proud.

I have been here for so long.

I wear a crown of golden leaves,

I sway in the autumn breeze.


Then sharp pain,

I scream but no one hears.

The pain continues, on and on.

 I start  fall.


My brothers and sisers can't catch me,

even though their arms are outstretched.

I fall down. So far down

and crash on the ground.


My limbs crack,

I can already feel the rotting in my core.

I am dying but my leaves are

clinging for dear life.


I now lay here,

on the floor.

I can no longer reach for the sun.

My death has slowly begun.

Guide that inspired this poem: 


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