What Happened To The Sky?

Packets and packets of tourists in plastic.

The smell of cigarettes and fish n' chips in the air.

Mountains of acid, but never quite pure.

Suited men strut in buildings once the homeless man's lair.

And surely they'd tell her she was born with no future.

Quite plainly, she knows all the while nothing's square.

Assumptions lacking impression and fact.

Exhaled smoke fogs the things one alone cannot bear.

She dreamt of a world in which the trees were protected,

In cages with locks in need of no key.

But sadly her vision was destroyed like the forest,

That helped them to feel the slightest of glee.

Filed people papers with name-tags and barcodes,

Categorised, numbered and cleaned.

Sorted, compacted, directed, diluted.

The weakness in their eyes depicts the undreamed.

What happened to The Sky?