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Draft Number 1

Skin taught to ribs like twigs,
Protruding from a rotting trunk.
Over sized midriff of gathering roots,
Shrinking and decomposing by each sunset.
Starved of nutrition as leaves start to die,
The human tree feels healthy.

Author notes

Certantly not finished, just a starting point methinks. Last 2 lines don't fit or make any sense what so ever, as i say just a draft.
Written May 4th, 2006

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