So this is what’s left.

Despite how it looks,

What it is

Is much different.

This beautiful place,

A pharmaceutical wasteland.

Flowing through it, is a toxic river

Slowly eroding the tunnels through which it runs.

Overcoming already the few bridges that existed.

Now they lie crumbled and broken.

Once it was thriving,

Now, barely surviving

The factories run,

But they do not function

The government gave up

And have all gone away

There is no worship at the temple.

The beauty remains but the promise is gone.

The hope has all faded,

Maybe it's easier to NOT carry on.

What have we done?

Lying in silence,

Forgotten but not gone.

It sits,

Waiting for nothing.

Wishing for no one.

Wanting no more.

This land is my life,

This place, is my body.

I drank too much.

Took too many pills.

And this is what’s left.

What have I done?