a tree
I once was a
tree,
all alone in a field
my branches were long,
my leaves would
fall.
dark brown was my trunk
which served as a shield,
from bitter white cold
and blistering
sun.
everyday I stood tall,
motionless
but always in motion.
I saw the world turn
around me,
clouds kissing the
mountains,
wind floating the
birds,
I kept silent and
listened.
in the distance, great foot-
steps,
hollow helmets and sad
smiles.
my loneliness was
broken
by the noise of red hands,
they came as many
but inside as
one.
one
approached me quite
nicely
in his hand a great knife,
he looked rather scared for
a man
with a knife.
he dealt a great blow,
I lost a few leaves
but what could I say
I was only a
tree
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