Whilst laying under the baroque
I spotted a looming oak,
One so out of place
It screamed out to my face,
It seemed surreal
Sitting there talking out
But somehow its goal was to conceal
Yet I couldn’t figure out what about,
Two dreary tears fell in my eyes
For the painting has cries
Cries of joy and fear,
Though using its tear
I saw a magical moving picture
It threw me to my knees
As if it wants this scripture;
For in a forest of trees
Lies both life
With strife
And death
To be without breath