The Polluted Lake It has been twenty years since I last journeyed here to my old childhood lake. As I walk down the barely visible dirt path that once was so beautifully defined with walls of luscious green oak tress, I can’t help but to feel anger at those who let this once beautiful landscape turn into a repulsive, polluted lake. As I slowly approach the shoreline, my eyes begin to fill with tears not tears of sadness but the kind of tears one gets while cutting onions. The terrible smell, which the polluted lake unleashes, burns my lungs as I hesitantly breath in.
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