(This was a creative vignette for English class)
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The glass house was broken
Just another token
Of those who had not spoken
And though the trees
And the bees
Once buzzed in the wind
Their beautiful shapes
To the floor were pinned
The pots were broken
To simple shards
The pieces of them
Spread for yards
The grass of the land
Crunched under the hand
Of those who did not care
And even if
it was fair
The land took more damage
than its share
Water contaminated
with the red goo
Cut up hand
In front of you
Bricks were fallen
cement no longer paved
This garden
Cannot be saved
For these were dead flowers
For water they craved
The wind no longer waved
