Lonely Tree

The simplicity of things have turned to dust,
And all that's left are little specks,
That you can't decipher.
Making things harder than before.
Soon the complexity will become so great.
And with one breath so big,
You inhale all that has been destroyed.
And you choke on the truth,
Instead of playing with the lies.
It's then you realize that it's your demise.
You fall to the ground,
But just like a tree alone in the forest,
Nobody will ever know if you made a noise

This poem is about: 
My country

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