I don't know why
People so dear would lie
About the beauty of our world
With lips wickedly curled
Smog is violently shoved into our crystal clear air
Scented with the screams of the weight it bares
And we watch behind our skinned emerald trees
As we ignore the prices of our own earth's expensive fees
Little fish are choked away
By the little baggies that feed us throughout the day
The sky is grey, and the oceans are made of something worse than ink
And we are told to not worry, for it's just a harmless kink
I don't know why
People so dear would lie
About the beauty of our planet
And its upper-class cackling bandits
YOU ARE READING
The Ghost of an Echo: A Mad Collection of Mad Poet Poetry
PuisiAn absolutely MAD Collection of Poetry by yours truly. Spiral into outer space and ride rollercoasters of mayhem and wonder. Anxiety is real. It's time we talk about it. New poems every week! #1 in whimsy #4 in fantastical
