Gone with destruction,
Is the worst kind of gone.
Its a gone that never comes back,
Gone is the home I ran to when
Home wasn't home.
Gone is the place I cried my hardest,
And learned the best.
Visions of my childhood fall
With every tree you cut,
With every natural beauty you turned into profit,
My untouchable world ***** by you and your
Machines of metal
Never asking the kids in the neighborhood,
(I which you are considered an intruder to),
What the woods across the street meant to them
What they meant
Every tree and woodland sound found my company.
Providing me with wholesomeness, as I knew
When I was there, I wasn't alone.
Knowing no one could find me and hurt me
As I was being cradled by the natural curve in the branch
Of a large oak
A friend you chopped at the ankles
And gave a price tag.
As if my security and state of mine could be bought.
You stuffed fallen trees into magnificently formed
Streams that now only trickle.
As I walk into the woods
That I once knew as my wonderland
I only see an unfamiliar land,
Almost as bare and naked as I feel standing in it.
And I cry quietly.