Produce fresh air
Lush earth producer of life
The wildlife are free to roam
Served in one area
It's in a jungle full of adventure
We are all amazed to see it
We all want to have it
In fact we want to be rich because of it
And heavy equipment deployed
And sharp weapons are used
And the workers are deployed
The roar of the saw blared ferociously
Accompanied by the death of the life supporter
No longer green
No longer fertile
There is only arid
No more shelter
No more fresh air
No more flood retention
It's all gone
Everything's gone
This poem I am posting to paran forest lovers
By @aremmar
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