round are the trees
at the base of their trunks
and defiantly split near their peaks

and the twigs on the ground
agonizingly split
as they wrench and complain down beneath

I can't quite recall
what it was that I'd done
to lead me to my death bound in chains

but if I think enough
I can start to believe
that my old calloused hands had caused pain

if I had a wish
or a bargain to be
all alone in this forest forever

my arms would be free
and the sweet flower bees
would sleep softly upon my cadaver

for the sun isn't solid
its aura elusive
casting light but yielding only shadows

perhaps if the stars
would go dim for a while
i might find my own in the gallows