Nature’s Ironic Truth

I wish to wear a brilliant fabric, but not on this long strand of dark velvet rivers

Embedded with silver white pearls

In which harshly woven by detrimental dressmakers

That emergence is totally regardless

I wish to have the nature’s fresh scent, but not on this asphyxiating fume

So grimy and so gloom

That this unfavorable chamber who breath devastation

That will completely impair my fragile ozone

I wish to watch a verdant mountain, but not on this pile of stinking mess

So putrid, so used and discarded

The sprouting future where maturity was absolutely concealed

That made ones prospects a full-blown regress

I wish to provide a cozy aviary, but not on this bronzed deep-rooted stool

In which once a leafy sky-scraper

And touch the cerulean sky, but was replaced with infrastructure

That thought to make some job truly lighter

But now I wish to change the starving planet

Who thirst for mending such nuisance

And bring back the garnet twilight

And envision the hope in vast expanse

To lead the world in fortunate chance.