Concrete Forest

I found myself lost in the forest.
Trees of concrete, steel, and glass.
Animals in suits scurried to and fro.
Each had teeth whiter than their skin.
Drops of rain fell from a broken sky.
Umbrellas bobbed with their steps.
They were untouchable.
Rivulets washed the gutters clean.
But they could not wash me away.
And that is how they saw me.
Nothing more than garbage.
I amounted as such, trash.
The rain became torrential.
The gutters clean of all but
stuck-on grit and grime,
Stale gum, waterlogged paper.
The inconvenient eyesores.
The shit that I was made of.
They were untouchable.
And so eventually it came.
A bigger storm, harder rain.
With guns and batons it washed
the gutters clean.
Pristine.
They were untouchable.
But the forest wasn't pure.
Time and time again the animals
with suits and pearly whites
Would just make more of us.
Because that's what animals do.
They don't clean up their mess.
Time and time again storms would come.
And the forest wasn't pure.
They wiped us all into the sewers.
The forest wasn't pure.