Picture Perfect

It always leaves me disappointed.
Closing my eyes and hoping,
Yearning,
Expecting.
Then I open them to a picture
A picture known too well
And it’s harder to breath.
Harder to see the beauty in this world.
It’s becoming layered with grime,
Layered with dirt,
Layered with blood.
The iron hands of humans reach higher to the sky.
Grasping what is left of our air supply.
And with each grasp,
I feel it in my lungs,
I feel the strain,
The weight,
The smoke,
The pain.
Soon there won’t be much more to grasp.
I feel it disappearing around me,
Falling,
Crumbling,
Into nothing.
And as I close my eyes,
I hope,
Yearn,
Expect something to come to view.
Then I open them to the same old picture,
And I’m always left disappointed.