There are things that

I don't understand about us.

One is how can you tell me

that you love me

when all you want to do

is change me.

 

You started a forest fire

that destroyed my roots

and damaged my trees.

You built concrete walls and roads

until I could no longer recognize

myself in the mirror.

"This is for progress," you said,

but all it created was calamities

waiting to happen.

 

I am not your propery.

You can't just take away

something from me

just because you wanted to.

I am a forest, and like a plant

that can grow on concrete

and pavements,

I am going to take back what is mine.