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

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