The despondency strikes like a hundred knives,
as if the air is awash with tragedy.
The dark sky looms menacingly,
inflicting dread upon those who cower below it.
The mountains, which once soared majestically,
are overlooked despite their sheer height.
Nobody appreciates them anymore,
so they stand eager to seek their revenge on those who discount them.
The black, tainted sea laps hesitantly against the dull shore,
the same monotonous rhythm,
back and forth,
back and forth,
whilst all the time wondering why it bothers,
why, when it lies so ignored?
The trees refuse to yield fruit,
'why provide for them', they ask, 'when all they do is mistreat us?'
'What would be the point?'
Once a Utopia, this unappreciated land is fighting back,
it begs to be noticed,
it demands to be noticed.
