Willow willow
Swaying in the wind along to the steady tempo of the polluted breeze.
Cars rush by, factories cry tears of steam - backyard fires are lit aflame.
Poor pale green leaves dance and leap.
Oh willow, oh willow tree... soon the soil will turn rotten as our water and air already are.
Leaves falling to the ground detached from your flimsy branch.
Fertile soil dries, air colored gray for the factories are full of ill-contaminated steam. Dry grass, dead trees, all set aflame spreading as the birds flee.
Poor animals run and scream.
Oh, willow, oh willow tree... you are slowly dying - how long will it be until I say I miss thee,
Come back to me.
Please come back, how long will I have to wait?
9/16/2021
YOU ARE READING
My Inner Demons | ✅
PoetryPoetry- "Although the two of us co-exist now, as one - tomorrow could be a war. A war between us, against you... But we are you? Does it feel nice being torn in two?" Here- -for us, the broken ones. For us, the broken, betrayed, and hopeless ones. ...
