Clear Cut

I need what I have lost; a part of me
was stripped from my posession, like the trees
that lie within the clear cut, blasphemy
of nature, like a crippling diseaese
I didn’t choose to die or to be born
Free agency allows me right or wrong
But god can choose to prick me with a thorn
or say the trees are down, where they belong
I wonder if the forest is in pain
When trees grow back I wonder if it’s glad
I hope the forest doesn’t have a brain
to try to reason out why I am sad
A forest without trees is just a field
But I have seeds and I will never yield.

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