Decadent leaves fall into the eyes of the trees,
Aren\'t you tired of your futile deeds?
Your brittle blade cuts through the deepest shade
of the veracious, violent viridian
that cements in your core
The gruesome narcissistic high,
That leaves you wanting more.
Ramifications of relegation are of only satisfaction to my own,
They say there\'s beauty in every life but in you I see only bone.
Feed your addiction to the murky waters that you bathe in
and bask yourself under the same scorching sun, that you\'ve burned all your bridges on.
For there is no better way to phrase, I am sure these moments are the highlight of your days
How I pity you, you poor nature child.
If you were the level of spice in my menu, you would be mild.
For you have let the eye of society scrutinize you into a new persona
And all you identify with is your drug-store purchased aroma
You\'re a laughing stock at many, and a role model of none
The only time I\'ll pay attention to you will be while writing this poem.
For after that, I\'ll be done.
I suspect you\'ll keep staring
At your reflection in the river
Frozen by your superficial temporary beauty
And your stubborn ignorance, may you wither.