Behind the blue, the ruins
remnants of it that once was,
"this is your home", says the lifeless voice,
a withered finger slightly touching the framed image,
an image whose appearance serves as proof of it having seen the wars come and go,
Still barely visible in the image a garden of an unidentifiable flowers' specie,
Behind it what appears to be a house, it's color unidentifiable
"they called it industrialization, yes, that's what they decided to name their warfare against the universe.
Their toxic smoke ascended and from home we without a choice descended", the lifeless voice pauses, coughs and continues.
"Now to Mars they ascend,
to her what they did to earth they will do
Oh beautiful Mars I weep for you,
On your fair body soon there'll be scars
Oh lovely Mars where shall you hide,
for look these aliens now come for you", the lifeless voice dies and with it,
it's source.
Behind the blue, the ruins
remnants of it that once was,
a home
A poem within a story within a poem.,..