Fallen

You can almost hear it scream-
The sweat on your brow
Falls and lets another live,
But it is too late for the tree
Snapping in two
From the cutter's blade;
Your heart does the same,
The bark breaking mercilessly
Slow after being maimed.
You watch its painful descent
In the sweltering heat of July;
The tree moans
Once it hits the ground,
The warm sap the tears it cries.
How could so many ask
If it even makes a sound?