The sky told me it was morning,
But the clock told me it was night.
It seemed as though the sun hid behind the mountains-
Just above the horizon, the peaks of white icing.
I waited for an hour, and saw nothing but the same,
A sharpened hatchet layed in my holster,
So to the trees I walked.
I swung, I gasped,
I sweated till my muscles turned to dust,
Hacking, and hacking, with no reward of a mark.
Not a scratch was made upon the wood,
The bark like steel, as the tree stood.
The sun was still hiding in the mountains,
Rivers creeped from the ice and snow,
Like a shattered portion glass in a window.
It was set in such a way like my arms, like my veins...
Blue, my veins were blue.
My skin was suffocating,
And my mind-
Seemed as if it was falling into the sky.
"It's nature's turn." I said with such effort.
"The world has stopped spinning, I suppose." I said with my last breath.
