deepundergroundpoetry.com
Woodlands of death
A whisper in the wind
The booming silence of the woodlands
The birds screeching
Making the land sound like that of death
The lands are dead
But untouched by man
Were every tree watches you
Were every tree wants there privacy again
The woods are cursed
Cursed with ever living in death
Cursed by man
The booming silence of the woodlands
The birds screeching
Making the land sound like that of death
The lands are dead
But untouched by man
Were every tree watches you
Were every tree wants there privacy again
The woods are cursed
Cursed with ever living in death
Cursed by man
Published 15th Oct 2016
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