Feelings through poetry

I look at the trees in vain; all they can feel is pain.

The hollow trees, with a faded crown,

Everyone looking has a frown.

Wind plays with their branches, slowly cracking in pain,

No one cares; they flare in endless sadness.

The never-ending madness, they are getting hurt,

Their branches cry in pain, wishing someone would come and not in vain.

The plain trees, bending in the wind, are all I can’t get off my mind.

The cruel humankind,

My vision blends, I cry for them.

No matter how hard I try, the branches keep breaking,

The trees keep crying, inside they’re dying.

Someone came to mend the branches before someone else tore them apart again.

I know it’s been my fault, these trees I hurt.

Not enough water, not enough care, don’t I dare, treat them like this?

These weak trees that suffer in pain, from getting hurt again and again.

They’re all cracked, hurt, and broken.

Can they even take more? It only makes my throat sore.

I and trees are on the same boat,

These trees that cry in pain

represent me as hollow I am.