Marked

Marked by Man Herself
A vibrant red lace tied together 
Her lacy branches and leaves wither
Cut down to build a timber shelf
In Her rarest form she is a sight 
Full of rigid edges and blood red.
She smiles to them but is misled, 
Because she won't make it through the night
'Are you dressing me?' she giggles
A red ribbon hung around her waist
Her leaves dripping in an embrace
'It kind of hurts,' she wriggles
A painful death brought to such beauty
As they cut deep into her heart;
Tearing her completely apart
It's a mess around her, gloves all sooty
Her kindness kneels along with her
'What did I do?' But provide air and shade
'Why?' Agonising death is the price paid.
Man is cruel - nothing as they once were.