Nature Calls

The broken bough is taunting me,
a limb of self-esteem.
It shows me that nothing can last,
That life is but a dream.

I see it in the grass that grows,
I see it in the trees.
I hear it in the babbling brook.
Nothing is what it seems.

Nature is my enemy,
a world of gorgeous decay.
It speaks to us with such disdain,
and dictates our every day.

The stones that lay around me,
paint a picture of despair.
What do you try to live for,
when there is nothing there?