Once a perfect pure place,
Now a soon to be a disgrace.
Walls and halls and photos too,
Maybe next is my roof?

The vicious waves crash on my walls,
Sometimes I think it will take me all at once.
I am a punching bag for the waves,
This is not a game!

This is the last I will speak,
The waves are my enemy!
Help me, please!
People need to stop cutting the trees.