The day I didn’t make it

This forest is large with birds and their songs,

The green leaves on my branches feel like they belong.

As daylight turns into night, the birds catch flight,

And I sit here, alone, in the darkness.

The next day I am woken by a sound beyond,

I call out to the others, but they don’t respond.

The noise becomes louder as I feel something cut in,

An agonising pain vibrates through my skin.

The sky’s blue colour is drowned by the dark,

As I look around me, there are piles of bark.

A blade cuts through my stomach, as I fall to the floor,

I think I am hallucinating, “I am!” I swore.

All the other trees are crying in pain,

Wood chips pour into a truck, they look like rain.

I try to stand up, but I trip over my stump,

Something grabs me and tosses me into a dump.

I am towed to a conveyor, where knives await me,

I look around the space and see myself, as well as three.

As I’m transported down to where the blade sits,

I am torn apart, into small, fine bits.