Moaning, the blood tree silently screams its secret’s of old.
Bending its roots are fingers and toenails of blood-suckers digging into the blood splattered earth.
Ancient bridges of a time of gold are tipped on there side, helping every boy and girl make their wish on a star, come true in their small lifetimes. Dangerously the branches of the Blood Tree point into an abyss of silence quieting your soul. Its crown glitters on its trimmed branches.
Its leaves, candy floss pastel pink prancing cheerfully in the moonlight.