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The Tree in my backyard is on top of me

A poem of woe and horror

The tree in my backyard is on top of me.
I know! I know!
No one will believe me but trust me, trust me!
The tree in my backyard is on top of me!

It stands there, its large roots placed on top of me.
It mocks me and teases me,
telling me that my days are numbered before the world forgets about me.
It inevitable, isn't it?
The world forgetting about me.

Oh, why me! Oh, why me!
The tree is on top of me! The tree in my backyard is on top of me!
On days that I think I can be unburied.
When the dogs sniff around the tree and digs a bit
He pushes them away and plant bright red roses instead.
That damn tree!

It grows its roots, pushing me deeper in the dirt.
It sends its army of insects to take and consume my flesh

Help! Help!
My mouth, its open and I can't close it anymore!
The roaches flood it. They flood into my mouth!
At this rate, I will surely lose my tongue.
My tongue! My tongue!
How will I ever speak again?

Oh, why me? Oh, why me?
This tree is on top of me.
Does it not see my woe?
My terrible luck and poor chances?
Does it not see that my family misses me?
They search for me in vain, ignorant that I am only but a few yards away.

Oh my mother!
How does she cry!
She does not know that this tree sits on me.
Its roots pushing through my torso, feeding off what used to be me.
Curse that man who buried me under this tree. Curse him! Curse him!

The insects may devour my flesh
The rains may wash the hairs of my head off
The stubborn tree may sit on me
But beware, beware. I will come back.
I will come back and revenge will be mine.

Till then, Oh, why me? Oh, why me?
This tree which sits on top of me.
Oh, someone help me!
I am under the tree in my backyard.

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