Devastation: Destroying the Last Bit of Hope

There's something so poetic about watching everything crumble around you

How can destruction be so artistic, so beautiful?

Seeing everything you attempted to build just fall

It's gone in the matter of minutes

The path you set out on is no longer there

It was wiped away as if it never existed

Can life be this way?

So artistic, so beautiful?

Because it seems as if mine is following that same path. 

This poem is about: 


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