http://www.yale.edu/ynhti/curriculum/units/1979/2/79.02.04.x.html
I've seen too much.
My leaves bristles at the sights I've seen.
Man=made death doesn't place well in the Creator's forest.
I've seen men strung high on the branches of this poor tree
Those men fought, kicked and scream for their mecry; but in return, they were laughed at.
It pains me to remember; if I could shudder, I would.
I hear them. They brought a new victim.
No creator.,I don't take to take part in horrible act.
Let my limbs break! Allow me freedom!
A man steps out with the familiar piece of rope in hand. He walk over to the tree, looking for a strong enough bramck. He spots me.
I hear the muffled screams of a man and a thwack!
The beatings have begun.
The man disappears for a second and comes back with his victim.
No. No. No. No.
I can't bear this.
He places the rope over me and around the poor man. The man begs for mercy, tears streaming from his eyes.
Nothing.
They lift him up and he begins to writhe.
Higher and higher they pull; more and more he convulses.
God, why are you doing this to me? When will this end?
Will you let me break? I am now a murderer.
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