A poem

Standing tall among my kind 
breathing deep the sun that shines
wind, lifting limbs - unconscious mind
the slow dance of the pines

the buzz that wakes me from below
fells me in the throes of youth
humans singing let it snow
wounds severed by the sawtooth

with sap still sticky on their hands
they mount me in their living room
away from my natural lands
accepting in my doom

so tired now, the curtain calls
- just when I am near to sleep
they decorate me in baubles
hanging heavy where I weep

wrap my body up in lights
so, no rest can be found
for many days and nights
they gather all around

needles dropping from my boughs
drooping as my life-force dries
with my dying strength, I espouse
to haunt them in my demise

for these wicked animals
in one last act of cruelty
to end of their cultish rituals
drag me, the “Christmas tree”

to the fucking curb.

© Darius the Mate 08-01-2022

Wordplay Pathway

5 thoughts on “Crucified

    1. Now, when you put it like that! – I watched the film “The electrical life of Louis Wain”, who, of course, was notable for his extensive artworks on anthropomorphic cats. Perhaps, there lies my inspiration for the sentient Christmas tree 😆. Thank you for your insightful comment, Lisa.

      Liked by 1 person

      1. You’re welcome and glad you linked your inspiration to someone positive. I also think making the tree sentient is much more likely to elicit empathy and care for what many consider a throwaway.

        Liked by 1 person

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