CrossRoads:

As he laid there motionless,
Taking in his moment of laziness,
He sprawled his beaten legs out,
And his pain had begun to pout,

The lively branch took a firm hold,
Keeping him relaxed on his bed,
Making him believe he was insured,
While patting him on his head,

The leaves had begun to form a grin,
Holding back it's monstrous laugh,
Smiling from ear to ear,
Just to be shown in their photograph,

The man unaware,
Content as could be,
But one day he was caught in thought,
And saw what that it was a dead tree,

He couldn't shake the evil oak,
Cackling away in the night air,
His head laid on his lap,
Unwishing to always be square,

His hope had reached the line,
It saw it's defenses low,
The gasoline was then poured,
And the match was let go.