The leaves curl like a sinister smile, luring you closer
To its branches which scratch against any surface
That dares to interact with it.
Swaying feverishly in the wind whilst staying
Firmly rooted into the ground.
You will hear the whispered voices of
The scared villagers. Warning you about
This deranged tree who stands on top
Of the hill, overlooking the town.
Firmly rooted into the ground.
But you would be crazy too, When your
Only form of interaction is from the bodies of the
Dead; who hang from the tree.
Swaying feverishly in the wind whilst staying
Firmly rooted into the ground.