Prologue

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Near one meadow, long ago,

Sits a tree by where the flowers grow.

It's branches all hefty and tall,

All protected, except for one.

Debris covers this one,

Soon cluttered with valleys of vines,

Destined to cut off its supply of life.

Amidst all of this, it appears strong as well,

Disguised as another healthy branch.

Days, and days,

It lies and lies,

Hiding its true, deadly secret from the other branches,

Until it cannot bear the weight no more.

Then it snaps.

A loud sound, which can hold no secrets.

A loud sound, which spills all truths.

Down it goes,

Clutching onto the other branches,

For safety, which it could have had before.

It brings down the others,

In a rage brought only by itself,

Fighting, desperately, to not hit the ground,

To not succumb to its fate, brought only by itself,

The fate to rot on the ground, from decisions caused only by it.

~The Rotten Branch~Where stories live. Discover now