Thirsty Tree

A colorless morning, fallen leaves,cold air Over branch a rope swinging, Twisted loop made of coir. Wind's gushing sound, Rope moving round, Dirt white claded hangs, Wounds and blood stains, In blink it goes n sustains, Dirty toes,pointing to ground, Ruffled hair, Broken neck's ecoing sound, Lack of blood making it fair. Last tears leaving kohl mark, Running deep till cheeks, Black lines on skin such stark. Body was cold and pale, A story was never to tell. Soil beneath wasn't wet, Blood that devil kept. Wounds from where blood crept, Blood,shouldn't gravity just accept. But the rope was turning red, Strand by strand below head. It sucked the blood slowly, Reaching above on the branch A tiny red leaf came lovely. More leaves came, But the body wasn't the same. It grew older and rotten Newer leaves when its not autumn. Hair grew white and started to fall Shrunken skin to the bone, Branch enjoying new all, Feeding on the dead alone. Through rope,it drank blood Fruits that it bore. stood still in storms n flood. It wasn't water but blood satisfied its core. Skeleton fell on ground, Rope looking for a prey around. Another to die on it, Another to feed, Another to give life for it Another victim indeed