How many trees can one tell
When many an axe have scarred
How many comrades have fallen?
In that forest so far

Saws and axes
Hatchets of stone
These trees topple back to back
Their wood breaks like bone

Sap falls like crimson rain

Foreshadowing to our barren end

No amount of love can change their pain

Stumps as a symbol of what humanity can wrend

What is wood worth?

What will sate this dirth?

(Here's a lil poem I wrote, just got mildly inspired by a stump outside -w-")