Who looked upon the city was Pan
He looked upon with sorrow
For his children were nearly gone
The sea of green was almost gone
As well as the pale skin of Pan
The few trees left, rustled in sorrow
The city's children dragged on in sorrow
Their energies drained and gone
And their carelessness causing pain to Pan
Pan slowly died full of sorrow, his spirit is almost gone.
YOU ARE READING
Human
Non-FictionI've gone through some crap. We all have, so maybe you can relate. This is poetry about the life of another depressed human.
