The Thorns of NatureMature

Crooked faces, sharp edges,

Rough surfaces.

Impending darkness drowns me,

My feet sinking into the floor.


Slippery leaves lie in wait

For the time my feet fall upon them.

They push me over,

Causing nearby trees to scratch my face.


Thick bark scrapes against my skin,

Blood trickles from my wounds,

Staining the rough surface of my

Wooden attacker.


Mud squelches and squishes, spraying

Up my legs.

Thick roots make me stumble,

Bruising my skin as it hits the gravel.


Large trees loom over me in the dark,

Their presence, a constant

Reminder of me just being a small specimen

Of living microbes in the universe.


The sharp claws of the oaks reach out

To scrape my skin.

The shadows engulfing me.

Always enforcing their life force onto the human race.


A loud

Tapping against my window,

Devils claws, branches,

Casting shadows that lurk and sneak into my room.


The wind blows,

The tree crashes, invading my own personal space.

The thick bark trapping me under it,

Suffocating me, us both dying together.

The End

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