I’m Sorry, Trees

I’ll cut to the chase:
When we cut down trees,
The sky’s scaffolding,
We’re building homes from the support system of the stars
And carving words into the corpses of forests.
We walk on floorboards of toppled dreams
Trampling then into the earth.
We rob beautiful animals of their homes
To make our own more substantial
And we’re kept warm at night
With the burning bodies 
Of the trees.
We’re living in a zombie town
But we ignore the stench of dead beings
Since they don’t give infecting bights
Like in the stories we print on their fine pulp.
Have you ever thought about the trees in your backyard 
Forced with a view of the ghosts of their kin?
Have you ever pressed ‘double-sided’ on a printer 
And hoped it made up for thousands of lives lost to paper?
And yet we still scuff our dreams
Into the floorboards.