Do They Make A Sound?

As I lay slumped against the shade I see,
How a tree is not just a tree
But casually,
somehow without flinchin'
They can be,
A witness to multiple crime scenes.
Some may be murders, some may be hangings.
I wonder if they had mouths would they scream?
If they had arms would they save us,
Would they really intervene?
Root up, united as a team,
Wielding the axes we use to slay them clean:
Their sisters and brothers

But to us we label that lumber.
Would they watch and let us choke?
Or would they cut the rope,
Knowing most of us ain't really that cutthroat?

Some of us actually use these corpses for shelters,
We have families of our own;
Not always hatred in our bones,
Although we do mass-produce clones
Of novels that reference their origins
From diverse biomes.

Isn't that ironic? And yes, to answer your question,
The fallen in the forest do make a sound;
Broken branches tell the story
Of who failed to call out,
But I suppose we reap what we sew,
So long ago, we planted giants
That we knew we would eventually tear down;
Extra, extra,
Every paper has some secret news
You hardly know about.

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I Only Get One Today Each Day

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On Several Accounts