Trees

Their forms groan as they bow under the wind.

Their hair withers as it is ripped out by the grasping hands of death.

Their armour is torn away, revealing insides tenuous to the elements.

 

Their limbs stretch towards you, whispering warnings of the unknown.

Their limbs catch at your clothing and cut your flesh, demanding to feel your inner warmth.

Their flesh weeps insects that burrowed inside their meat onto your head.

 

Their feet invade into the earth.

Their feet advance past rocky barriers.

Their feet intake the nutrients offered up by subservient dirt.

 

Their voices mingle as one as you build them into your home.

Their words devise a plan to retake their land.

Their voices carry past our ears as we rip them from the earth.

 

Their eyes watch you as their limbs taunt you.

Their breath provides you life as their flesh provides you warmth.

Their bodies decay along with yours.

This poem is about: 
Our world

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