I needed to make some poetry, this is Scars of Green:

A lush canopy of trees, the whistles of birds surrounding me, the soft loamy earth beneath my feet.
Soft hums break the silence of this place, a final bastion of green, and nature speaks through me.
This place, scar of green on land of grey skin, speaks of its own destruction;
Death comes naturally to life, but this death leaves no beauty behind.
Only green scars, stolen of its soul, destined to be alone.
An exorcism, untangling our interwoven spirit.
Thousands of years in the making.
Death by a malicious craft.
Decrepit roads of black,
they stretch ever more
forward to nothing
not even rest
not even
death