Skyscrapers broke
And the oceans drained away.
Mountains crumbled
And night never turned to day.

I let the plane fall from the sky.
Pieces broke off, and
Landed in forests nearby.

Now things are damaged;
They can’t be fixed.
Do all relationships end like this?

The pilot until the end
I let the plane fall
In it me and my only “friend”.

The World talks about pollution 
But still there is no solution 
The world behind is so green 
But the fire and smoke make it grim
Oh! there was a beautiful linden
But the hazy smoke made it hidden

Presuming the world will end one day
And there would be no body even to say 
The smoke was so much pernicious
Which turned into distress and was serious 
Tis our obligation not to feel ignominy 
But to look forward to make the earth greeny

This smoke will make us one day motionless
If we do pollution and remain being careless 
Let me warn you it is a slow poison
Even more dangerous than the nuclear fusion!!!
At night the fire became so intense 
That gave a scene of joy and tense

In pale moonlight it looked so grey
Which was due to the burning of ******* and hay
The smoke arose and arose so high 
That covered the stars in the sky 
Oh! God I wish it should go to space 
And save some years for the earth to face

The building they lived in,
called home,
became their tomb,
became the weapon that broke
their bone,
took their lives.

But their stories have to
survive,
This City won't let you forget
about those
you were meant to protect.

I was actually looking for a room
but found myself
on the fiery streets
CRS batting the flames
as politicians took their seats,
business as usual
but the people stood in refusal
Feminists Familes and BlackBlok
Yellow Jackets Housing Groups
round the clock
only the holiday period
could douse the fires
and I went back to mother
the pressure smothered

How long is your attention?
Remember: this is a poem for the dead

For those who were crushed as they slept in their bed

Merry ******* Christmas
instead.

It wasn't an impossible goal.
But I did give it all of my soul.

I wanted to be a teacher.
Be a duller, rules abiding preacher.

I saw me with glasses, and my hair in a dot.
Proudly presented in the hallways I'd trot

Everyone would see me and assume
What an ancomplished woman I presume

I wanted a simple house with children and a dog.
In my classroom, I would endlessly monologue.

I'd have two children I'd teach everything myself.
There'd be a successful book I wrote on every shelf.

That was my idea of success.
Before it all became a mess.

However I still truly believe.
I'll get over all this grieve.

And still make it work.
Without meeting another ****.

That took all away from me.
I'll get there, you'll see!

I warned him though,
of my affinity for destruction

That I chase thunderstorms,
and am the most distraught in idyllic settings

That I burn beautiful things down,
Simply to watch them burn

And that I will run from him,
if he ever feels like safety

I warned him
but he couldn’t see destruction,
in the way I spoke of poetry and the stars.