Cypress effigies loom in thought,
their bodies entombed,
beneath what waters paranoia wrought;
beneath what whispers exhumed.
Peat bogs timeless in derangement,
their fear slithers,
rippling through sediments of the despondent;
rippling through sanity as it withers.
These Jackpine chirp to unknown melodies,
their song transformed,
in predation they are howling maladies;
in predation they are Owls conformed.
A voice of a familiar lie,
nevermore you may rise.