I stand atop a tall mountain,
looking down I see nothing but death and destruction.
I feel the last bit of wind in the air,
blowing against my short dark-brown hair.
I lay on the dirt covered ground,
looking at what is left of this planet I have found.
I taste the bitter dirt on my tongue
I look at the sky and ask:
“What have I done?”
I know now that what I did,
does not compare to the death of the wind.
I know that what I did,
could not have such an impact on this land.
I know that all of the things that have gone wrong,
are not my fault, yet I go on.
I go on and think of the day,
that I can end this pain and say
but yet I lay here on this dirt covered ground
unable to speak
I just listen to the sounds.