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.