The sounds of the world twist and distort like trees,
Conforming to the whims of the hellatious forest.
Like a cage,
The trees entwine into one another,
Bending their own spines into hideous forms,
Just to keep me here.
Like guards to prisoners,
The trees lie to me,
Perverting the sounds of the world,
Just to asphyxiate my hopes of escape.
I can only peek out through tiny cracks in my natural prison,
And The Trees do with my screams for help,
Exactly what they do with the sounds of outside,
Warping them into malformed cries,
Making all believe I am but the wind.
In reality I scream.
Hoping the dysmorphic sounds will resonate with somebody,
I must escape this hell,
Death isn't an option,
I doubt a 4th attempt would do any good,
For the Trees!
O' The Trees,
Their roots have slithered through my pores,
They feed me,
They keep me healthy,
They hold me.
They,
The Trees made this cage,
Not to keep me in,
But rather to keep them out.
I lie in the dirt once more,
I close my eyes slowly,
They love me.
