A twig snaps,
The leaves in the trees rustle.
What am I doing out here again?
The tree..
Walking in the deepest part
Of the forest.
Weaving in and out of
Imperfect trees.
Then, standing there,
Is the tree I marked weeks ago.
A tree that would be just right...
I swing the rope up to the nearest branch,
Tying it tight.
I climb up on my little stool,
And wrap the rope around my neck.
I look up, as the sun starts to set,
Making the forest way more beautiful
Than it should.
I kick the stool from underneath me.
Darkness greets me.
My body, now limp,
Swings in the evening breeze...
