Poetry

The Hanging Tree

By Dmun

The Tree still stands, proud and tall,
Spreading fear for one and all.
It's twisted branches block out light,
Life no more, it's black as night.

A rope once strong, now frayed and torn,
Was once the necklace criminals wore.
Hanging now it marks the spot,
Where bodies hung, swayed, and rot.

Crouching silently with ready feet,
The wolves wait patiently for the ill-got meat.
Life doesn't rest on or around,
For the Tree is Death from tip to ground.

Its roots are twisted 'round lost souls,
Their bodies, what left, lie in shallow holes.
Back in history it was said to be,
The most evil, darkest Hanging Tree.