The fourth oak tree on twenty-third street was planted in '45.
Next to what was then Maybury Drive.
At first it was beautiful, giving acorns to all the little squirrels.
It was also the shade for an artist's murals.
Children played hopscotch next to it it spring, summer, and fall.
And in winter, without its leaves, it seemed kind of small.
But then the neighborhood changed, as did the tree.
Its skin was scarred with things like, "T.R. loves E.E."
Nowadays, under its branches, drugs are sold.
And by its roots, bacteria turns to mold.
Its branches turned old and withered with age,
As a result, from its pulp, was made this page.
So next time you see a tree, please be kind and sweet,
And remember the fourth oak tree on twenty-third street.

Looking, looking, looking over the edge.
Not realizing the position you are in,
Feeling lonely, free, and empty, all at once.
The edge is a strange thing, it is a line, and once you cross it,
You can't ever come back over it again.
The drop is steep, but once you hit the bottom, the terror is gone.