by John Smallshaw
(London, England)

Would I feel free if I were a tree?

To feel the wind?

To feel the rain upon my naked skin?

To write the leaves upon my many arms?

To hear the beetles crawl?

To watch the caterpillars fall into butterflies?

To watch the forest as it dies?

And when the axe bit

Would I scream?

Would I feel free

When I fell?

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