An old poem:

Setting sun, casting lingering shadows upon the greying shores
Crashing waves from the tide, flowing in with discarded toys
People leaving, setting sail, some still waiting for that gale.

Sadly, some without a choice, their sorrow without a voice.
Cries unheard, tears unseen, leaving behind festering greed.
Vacating their place, tired of seeing another uncaring face.

Gleeful fly feeding on yet another, people rushing crestfallen.
Nary a smiling brow as they just staggered on with a frown.
Dying preferred to being ill, like a used battery dumped in the fields.

What have we become, where are we going?
Where the promised alpine land once stood, only ruins awaits the
ones that were lost.

The dream that once was is no more, press on, return not back
to the forsaken shore.

Wu Qi