A world that doesn’t exist

Towering trees

concrete and glass, loom in rows

Planted in a labyrinthial network

of dark paths and trails

Stars hang low, and orange overhead

Some of them blinking

as the dark tumors within

Strange, wicked

this forest is home to

residents with no den, no nest, no hollow

space or protective rock

Just trees to press against

and blanketing leaves

At some point long ago, their luck ran out

Tragic events left them helpless

and they couldn’t find their way out

Now and then, their cries are heard

by people of the field

so they try to shut it out

And now I’m here

Lost in this forest

Wondering when I’ll die

Read third place poem for poetry contest here