I can’t stand trees.

They’re a bit too theatrical.
They act all dramatic, no static, all radical.
All “Hey, look at me!” All “Hey, I’m a tree!”
All “Hey, stump boy, do you like what you see?”

And I reply, “No! You limp-limbed lug!
You winter leaflet littering bug.
With towering branches and cowering roots,
devouring sunshine and showering fruits.

It’s a war they want? Then a war I’ll wage.
I’m writing this on paper just to waste...

…a fucking page.