Red is the color of the trees,
covered in blood that
bares witness to
the slaughter with me.
A testament to the witch
that made me sit here and watch.
All of them, innocent enough
and real enough in my dream
to make me weep and cry.
I shake my head in tears,
looking down at the dead
trying to convince myself that
all of this isn't real.
No matter how hard how I try,
my heart continues to break
in pieces like the
cluster of pink flowers
falling to their graves.
I started to chant unfamiliar
bible scriptures, the words
crawling under my skin.
I am not a religious man
but for the dying trees among the bodies,
I'll do anything to save them.
I lost faith quicker than
the cherry blossom trees as
they are engulfed in flames
by the laughing victorious witch.
I could hear the screams
as they burn up to the sky.
