by Harry

Submitted by kim blades, writer


Looking down from his lofty, heavenly height

onto filthy streets and shattered buildings

percolated black by the scorching flames

which had turned water to red-hot steam

and cooked all the fish quite dead,

their aromatic smell being overpowered

by the more ostentatious stench of burning

and death.

This was no longer a mystical land

of lush green forests, sunny plains,

colourful flowers and tranquil lakes,

but a place that could elicit no sigh

of pleasure or smile of pride from him.

For it was now a scorched and burning

empty land of death.

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