Victim of the Trees

This is a threshold.
Stimulate it,
And beware of my manifestation.
I hang from a branch.
The darkness of the bark
Is the ashes of my skin.
The noose around my neck
Is what held me back.
Scars on my throat
Are from the knife in my back.
I was destroyed by the ruthless.
Now our roles are reversed,
And I haunt the useless.
I am caked in dried blood,
But know it isn't mine.