I know you won't kill me
Perhaps, I will live for ages
Shriveling under this pain
Withering with your praises.
Yes, praise you will
'Cause that's what I deserve
The last tree standing
But why were you so late to conserve?
You adorn me with garlands
Pray my rooted veins
Just because I am unique
You visit me again and again.
You crushed my home with rollers
Maimed my buddies and friends
And now you build this museum
Across the dead forest's ends.
A sanctuary that kids will relish
"Mom, is this what you call a tree?"
They jump around my shady leaves
Alas, they would never know life was once so free.
You dwell today in greyish layers
As you manufacture the air to breathe
The laws of nature you disobeyed
And now you are left to seethe.
Don't ask me for mercy
'Cause you cursed your life's blessing
Just, imagine how you would have felt
Had you been the last man standing.
This post is a part of
Write Over the Weekend, an initiative for
Indian Bloggers by BlogAdda.