Gone, a life of hundred years...

Reproduced here, a poem on the death of a tree, aged 100 plus, by a 14-year-old, who chose to voice the unspoken agony of having its life cut short mercilessly by the very people whom the tree had served faithfully.

Poet Deepti Raghuram who calls herself 'freakish', runs a blog - 'Heal the world'. Isn't that a freaky title for a teenager's blog? Here, then, is her piece, as we found it - no Caps; not much punctuation.

gone a life of hundred years
cut mercilessly at its base
yet it neither showed its fears
nor the pain on its face

the cries of 'i served thee faithfully'
could not be heard
nor its sounds of pain; is it right that
death should come as nemesis for others gain?

the killers did not know
about the great life they had taken away,
nor were they bothered
when the birds from home flew far away.

betrayed by the people whom
it first had defended,
yet they were the same people
who were 'friends' as they once had pretended.

as it fell undefended
the tar ground became its first resting place.
was this the respect to pay
to a life of 100 years but still gay?
Alas, not one thought, not one asked.....