BURNT WOODS

There are some woods
I would call bars
The arms, made of fire
Golden, as act of deceit

The branches like iron rope
Surrounding as serpent
Putting whole tree ablaze
With even roots, uprooted

The forest at fire
Natives unnoticed
The pain of trees
They can’t feel

The song of birds
In favour of those serpents
Venom, who spewed
In such ringed woods

The woods helpless
For water, their desperation alerted
Alas! Serpents never knew,
They’re destroying their abode

Their skinny fortune,
As their destiny
Let the woods burn,
As they’re made for so

The crown, lifted by them
But puppets, they found themselves
The carvings of slavery engraved
O’ Scales of serpents, I found

The time, there used to be
When jigsaw carvings
Those mighty woods witnessed
Before losing their identity