it only takes one out of one hundred.
In the place
Where there was once pine, oak and ash
Praying to no god
Chainsaws and painful sorrows
The trees weep
Smog and logging
One percent can make a massive dent
If they're not ever so careful
We take the brunt of their hunt
No amount can satisfy them
A weary tail our past will tell
Of industry and plunder
This is far from the birth of agriculture
These men live by a greedy culture
They steal and take
All earth can make
For no benefit but theirs
We choke and gasp
While they grasp all natural finity
Stolen from the future
No one shall have air
And so in short we all despair
As there is no end,
Do we have the power to cease their hunger?
The will of the one percent
https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/comments/or52dk/nightdress/
https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/comments/oqzck7/anniversary_card/
Posted Jul 25, 2021, 11:44 AM UTC