It is sick and twisted,
a gnarled tree that feeds from poisonous soil.
It blooms sweet flowers,
a magnificent deception that lures in the innocent.
The antithesis of a giver,
it sucks the oxygen straight from the lungs.
Thorns embellish its branches,
curved like snake fangs slicing into the flesh.
Colossal leaves conceal the eyes,
blinding the chosen ones to its cunningness.
A labyrinth of mangled roots,
trip the unsuspecting into perilous bliss.
The sinful sap it harvests,
entraps the soul and encases the heart.
Its bark impervious to sunlight,
life generates from darkness harbored within.
She sought refuge underneath its welcoming foliage,
heedless of danger, nestled amongst the blossomed façade.
She watered its thirsty soul, nourished its ravenous mind,
pulled the weeds that burrowed deep into the heart of it.
Truth gave way when the mendacious leaves withered in wintertime,
revealing the repugnant nature of the tree and its cruel intentions.
The tree stood defiant, ignorant to the power of the cloaked woman in red.
Fire blazed within the palm of her hands, bloody from harvesting the lies.
She set fire to the poisonwood and it burned mercilessly from within.
Its ashes scattering with the warm summer breeze and it was no more.
“Threefold the weight of deeds done shall it be returned unto thee,”
and carry with her she will, the ashes of the forgotten tree.