The Greening Of My Country

A plague is spreading

Across my country.

It’s march, relentlessly

Greening my land.

Acre after acre

The native succumbing,

To the relentless march

Of the money tree.

Pine trees,

Bloody pine trees.

As far as

The eye can see,

Pine trees.

Nothing,

But bloody pine trees

And your voice echo’s,

Better than no trees.

And your voice echo’s,

Memories, fading,

As the native suffocates

Beneath the needles.