'The Unfeeling Forest' Poem by Michael Micmac Mccrory

‘THE UNFEELING FOREST’

He was so confused, fed up with life
Found hanging by the neck from a tree
In the unfeeling forest full of strife
Only happy, when creating misery

Your covered avenue provided a shroud
He thought was made for him to wear
Are you and your friend the grim reaper proud?
His friends found him there

He left behind two young sons
And a wife whose thoughts are array
Why was it him, why are they the ones?
Perhaps you will explain it to her one day

You have a penchant for taking the confused
You think it is all just a game
To see their life drain, all bruised and contused
Yes, you the unfeeling forest are to blame

MICMAC