Writing

It's a tree,

A plain old Apple tree,

So why does it mean so much to me?

The apples aren't normal, 

They're mostly rotten,

But the tree,

That apple tree,

It brings me peace,

Shade, 

Scene One

(Stage)

(Dr. Snowday sits in her chair, wrapping tape around her wrists.)

Dr. Snowday: Actors and Techie, start the show!

In the early morning I wake. I dress silently and slip out of my sleeping bag. I slowly unzip the tent flap, trying to let my tent mates sleep. The morning air is cold and biting, and a deep fog encases everything around.

if the world were to burn tomorrow morning

i would laugh in its face

because who is dumb enough 

to care about a world

that doesn't care a single bit about them?

truthfully, i don't know.

The atmosphere has a sudden, unshakeable stillness-

Unaware of what has been forecasted.

Children push on swings and frolic through fields.

The calm before the storm.

I am alone, truly alone, alone, alone, alone. 

I am alone.

I am broken.

I am helpless.

I cannot stand back up.

I will never see the daylight again.