The forest at dawn, a dreadful place.
The mist choking the life out of all creatures,
The sun blinding their eyes,
The wind burning their faces.
Birds sing the songs of despair,
As the creatures mourn their loss of nothing.
At night, the rain falls to destroy the ground
And the birds fly away to die,
While the sound of eighty eight trees
screaming in the darkness
answer the questions of devastation.
Author notes
.... It makes sense on a subconscious level. Anyway, I think it's too short, so I'll probably add more later.
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