It died.

Of course it did. What did they expect?

They were so stupid, so blind, foolishly dewy-eyed

and hopeful, unaware of how they would become entirely wrecked

Death swirled around them,

Hissing through their bones and out their chattering teeth

Reminding them of their ticking clock as it droned in an incessant drum,

Whispering about their head like an inevitable wreath

They looked up at the spindly skeleton of blackened wood,

Their once soft gaze hardened and cold

Oh, how they wished instead of him it was the tree, living, that stood

They couldn't leave it like this- they would conquer Life; then nothing would die before growing old