Forest

You were born in these woods.

The trees provided you with your first breath.

You walk along paths most familiar,

Among friends you've always known.

You stand tall in these woods,

But the trees stand taller.

...

You are not unlike a tree.

Your short, brown hide as your bark.

Your long, powerful legs as your trunk.

You even have a set of branches of your own,

Adorning your head like a canopy.

...

Branches…. Snap!

What was that?

Freeze

…

…

…

And wait.

Your ears like owls on your head,

Swivel to face the sound most dread.

Is that what you think it is?

A hunter here for your head?

…

Wait.

Is that a flash you see?

A glimmer of an eye?

Is this how you'll die?

…

Wait.

Your heart too fast, your breath too slow,

Your hooves ready to tow.

But you need to know.

…

Wait.

Bang!

And go.

…

Your hooves along in a stride.

A searing in your side.

A great monster has come for your head.

And they have shot you dead.

Lying on the muddy ground,

They have come for your beautiful crown.

You lay there, gasping for life.

The trees stand above, watching your strife.

They provide you with one last breath,

As they watch over your death.

…

You were born in these woods.

The trees provided you with your first breath.

You walked along paths most familiar,

Among friends you've always known.

You stand tall in these woods,

But the trees stand taller.