There is a concrete jungle
Blocking the line of the horizon,
And it makes me want to cry.
In the city, trees sprout sporadically
And the rivers flow thick with asphalt.
This artificial haven is home to man,
But I view it as an alien land
Where shades of grey overtake those of green
And quickly demolish them, leaving only a vague memory
Of where bare feet once left imprints in the soil many years ago.
Have we no respect for how our planet was meant to be?
But I cannot fight it, my voice is faint and weak,
So I continue my trek through this hatred jungle of concrete.