Once upon a time, long long ago, Traffick Boss was sprouting in the woods.
He had been murdered quickly when he tried to traffick somebody, and was buried under the soil so that nobody would have to see him.
But seedlings of various wildflowers and future saplings had nestled into his flesh, under the surface of the humus he lay under.
The seedlings sent their little new roots into his flesh, and lifted their cotyledons high into the dappled beams of sunlight that danced on Traffick Boss as he lay under the soil with his tongue lolling and X's for eyes.
Traffick Boss's Spirit [dead, X's for eyes, confused, sprouting in the woods]: "{whoooo ... did they not like my gifts to the world? did i not traffick people and shatter their realities and try to form their precious consciousness into dumb injured tools in ways they loved and valued?}"
mistakes! maybe try again before "traffick boss" label gets there? unsure ... or maybe right before we realize he's [dead]?
As Traffick Boss fated these life impacts into the seedlings, they drank deeply of rare nitrogens his flesh held and spoke with the sunlight on how beautiful and full of perfection the world they were being born into was.