Oh rotting man why do you sit upon the fallen tree decaying the leaves flowing through the acrid air. Do you know not the hands of time have stopped for you good sir. Alone you sit perched in mirth as death wont even dare come near. Your hollow eyes do not see but you still stare with great despair. The grounds you keep do not grow but still you linger here. You've made your home on the fallen tree now it turns your flesh to dust. Rotting man it is your time to finally meet the earth.