Growth of distruction

this place is so empty
facelessly ending
shiny and gold-coated
so tempting
smells of roses
beauty of a French model
in her most seductive poses


compromised blindness
self-confident
getting so close
it becomes imminent
standing on the edge
between a lush forest
and concrete

close minded
staring at the sun
conceded idea's
blissful in your blandness
your blaspheme
of blame
we don't all fare well
in your game

so long
trees of green
how I'll long for
your scent
and the beauty gleaning off you
at the rising of the sun
and these natural wonders
the abundance of glory
disfigured
disgraced
by someones hands