Forest

Pieces of me still linger there

In that place I can hate the most

and now I feel I must go back

to the forest to meet with my ghost

The trees will be crying

for what they have witnessed

The wind will hold still with my secret

The poor birds will never sing again

for they were rendered speechless.

I'm sure they hear my screaming

and observed your sickening act

You stole the best part of me

I was only twelve

and I can never have it back.