A Massacre

Someones murdering nature again
Cutting down habitats
And sources
For insects, butterflies, and bees
Just so they can
Make everything
Look neat, and tidy, and controlled
To make it look nice, and pretty
Whilst destroying
The natural beauty
Muting the birdsong
As feathered friends
Go into mourning
The only sound
Is of man, and machine
Now the beautiful wildflowers
Lay decapitated
Hung, drawn, and quartered
The only nature left
Will be the pretty little flowers
Marching like soldiers
In rows of disdain
Clustered together
And coerced
Into organised ranks
The noise has stopped
The one sided battle is over
The dead
Swept away
The kerbside
A balding green
Any survivors
Now destitute
And trodden underfoot
I grieve

by Jemia