The Fear
The tree stands tall and wide,
it looms in the shadows.

As I walk through the forest I try to pass it.
try to move, try to walk.

Try to hide the fear that grows inside me,
as my heart pounds and my ears scream.

The limbs reach for me, try to grab me,
to hold me.

Long, black, wrinkled, knotted limbs that cry out,
reach out and scratch and tear at my flesh.

My face, my arms, my back.

My warm blood runs in the cold night,
as the screaming tree feeds on my pain,
my agony, my fear.

Drinking my dripping blood into its decaying wood,
infecting me with its death,
that lingers like smoke from the ground,
clouding my mind, my eyes.

The sharp, scratching, clawing limbs.

The stinking bark, the smoldering rot.

Stenching my soul, tainting my heart,
feeding from my tears and blood and cries of pain.

Killing me, destroying me, stealing all hope, all thought.

Mercilessly, relentlessly, unforgivingly.

Filling me with its disease, its festering death,
with no escape, no hope, no life.
It was just a thought.