The fire burns in the distance

The smell of burning wood fills the air

Trees fall without resistance, the beautiful forest is no longer here

 

Death and life bring forth sadness

Just as cloud and sea bring forth rain

There is beauty within the madness, there is joy within the pain

 

The forest is now bought a memory

The hills a cruel torture

Yet as I watch such irony, I can’t help but watch longer



The Icognito Writer

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