See me dying.

Sometimes I see me dead
or dying beneath the trees.
In a forest beside a country lane
in a spot where no one sees.
Like I was tossed from great speed and rolled into the green
camouflaged beneath the grass
I'm slipping away unseen.
I'm that fallen tree
that never made a sound.
No one was there to hear me
Not for miles around!
And if they do try to find
me in a place where no one sees
They wont be able to see
the forest for the trees.
I see the white sky spinning
through the branches and the leaves.
I feel myself floating above me
as my spirit grieves.
I see my still pupils dilated in my eyes.
And speeding down a country lane, the creator of my demise.