Hello Poetry
Submit your work and get some sparkles! Create free account
LendonpartainPoems
We are the forest of the dead. We are crimson willow trees. We are weeping in the woods, Hanging bodies like chandeliers Leaves, Crumble, Deep in. Humus, Body becomes soil. Bleeding the forest. Cold Wet Moss undergrowth Drag down the bones The beetles form inside, Leave larval forms behind, Above our heads they swing, The wind blows bleeding trees. The machinery of death. Brings the forest life, From suicide.
0
Apr 20, 2016
Apr 20, 2016 at 12:25 PM UTC
Soil Conservation Society of Japan
We are the forest of the dead. We are crimson willow trees. We are weeping in the woods, Hanging bodies like chandeliers Leaves, Crumble, Deep in. Humus, Body becomes soil. Bleeding the forest. Cold Wet Moss undergrowth Drag down the bones The beetles form inside, Leave larval forms behind, Above our heads they swing, The wind blows bleeding trees. The machinery of death. Brings the forest life, From suicide.
Lendonpartain
Written by
Lendonpartain
32/Non-binary/American
Apr 20, 2016
Apr 20, 2016 at 12:25 PM UTC
Request permission to use this poem