![]() Hatchet ManA Poem by Aethereal![]() A hatchet man's encounter with a tree.![]() Hatchet Man
On this little biosphere
seasons come and go. Hatchet Man is coming near with his fatal blow. If I had a voice, I'd sneer
at my mortal foe. He won't see my sappy tear pouring down so slow. My leaves clear the atmosphere
of a toxic woe to make climate less severe. My limbs nest the crow. As I die, my only fear
is a dread I stow for those friends whom I hold dear who need me to grow. © 2013 AetherealReviews
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