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Broken Paradise
October 19, 2011
My paradise has broken,
it has burned to the ground.
All that remains,
is singed grass and fallen trees.
You can hear the sound,
of buzzing flies and broken wings,
flying in the gentle, stale breeze.
You can smell the gasoline,
on remains of bushes and trees,
the great smell gliding through,
a distant breeze.
You can see the pure destruction,
on the everlasting land,
and the faded blue sea.
My paradise has fell to chaos,
since you have left the boundaries.
© Rebecca B., Marietta, GA
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