The modern soul
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There was a time
When doors stayed unlocked
But this age isn't as kind.
The once green fields of vast horizons
Now only wastelands of mechanical pollution
How could they have called this improvement?
Where there was once the gentleness of sand
There is only the coldness of cement
I walk, in sadness and lament.
I once sat on the branches of the oak tree
Admiring the clear sky, enjoying the clear air
Now, only thing left common is me.
We move in an age so fast
The old, the weak, the disabled are left behind
Kindness, a monument of the distant past.
So here is the modern soul
Crying out to preserve our Earth bestowed
Crying out to preserve our heart, once gold. -
It does seem that things that are supposed to be improvements really aren't.
On a side note, I saw that they are trying to improve MacRitichie, honestly speaking I dread to see the result of that when it's done.
Such is life in a growing city.
I enjoyed the poem. Ta.
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Love ya poem~
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Make your poem sounds angrier. Give it a sarcastic tone.
