truthfully these woods will be
the end of me and all i see
are tragedies in the trees
growing through the ground
uprooting and rotting the trough
whistling a harmony of harm inside of me
born from a dying doe
i am the fawn in the morning light
vulnerable and unsteady on my feet
instinct guides to hastier strides
from predator to prey
i am too new to know how you knew
it would all play out this way
