There are no poison trees, only poison rivers.

The black river was one I had heard of, but not seen. Well atleast up until a while ago. And even though black is my favorite colour, this shade was not one I was comfortable with. It was a vicious river, this one. It worked by the fundamentals of charring everything in its way, and whoever it touched, it would burn down and melt to become a part of the river. It quite resembles quick sand actually. If you come across it, it swallows you right in. No mercy.

This river was a slurry of misunderstandings, assumptions and hate. And somehow it found its way to the tree in my backyard. I could feel the poison water seeping up into the spine of the bark and eventually turning my vibrant tree to a monochrome. The poison seemed to have a particular liking for the apples of friendship, and obviously, instantly turned them to coal. And the worst part was, I could do nothing about it. I could see no other choice but to chop off that branch before any other part of my tree, my life, got contaminated. Maybe there was a second choice, but I was so entranced by the river that I could not see it.

I hope you do, because this black river still lurks through the veins of the soil beneath your feet, waiting to destroy any and every other tree there is.