The Trees

For thousands of years,
through all the heavens tears.
I have fed off this land.
I have been tortured and broken by many a hand.
I have reached my arms up to the sky,
just to feel the birds fly on by.
I have watched as the earth became more soiled,
and the people that used it turned spoiled.
I have lived through the wars of man,
even became a part of their master plan.
I have seen man reach the moon,
I cried as the parts fell way to soon.
Now as war reaches this land again,
I am about to pay for man's sin.
As my limbs break and fall,
do you hear my dying call?
Will any one of you hurt,
when I am nothing but a hill of dirt?
Will your kids know the trees,
or will we only be a memory floating on the breeze?