Poem i wrote (The forest)

The trees are whispering to each other.
The birds are silent.
The stream that once flowed is still like a picture.

The animals hide,
scared for what’s to come.
What is to come?
Nothing.
Nothing comes.

The forest lives in fear forever.

Fog clings to the edge of the woods,
letting me glimpse only inside.
No one knows what lives within.

I take a step.
It is chilly.
I take a step.
The fog parts with me,
leading deeper into the inner layers of the unknown.

In the middle of the forest,
beside a large oak tree—
the hare.

The only beating thing around,
hurt but still loving itself.

I try to go to it.
The forest throws its branches down,
protecting the hare
from the only threat it sees.

The threat is me.

But nothing was coming.
I am nothing.
The forest sees otherwise.