"Oh, people, my mother is a rug
I never got to say goodbye or give her one last hug.
Oh, people, my mothers head rests on your wall, and her pelt sleeps on your floor.
My siblings died from starvation, one, two, three, and four.
Alone in the cold, I cried to you, but you just slammed your door.
Oh people, my father still stands up straight, but his eyes are dull and still.
Oh, people, we are on the brink of extinction, yet you still choose to kill.
Oh, people, I am just a cub, but does my voice still matter?
Can you hear it, can you see it? Bodies start to scatter.
Can you hear it? Can you see it? The ice is starting to shatter.
Oh people, look around you, the ground beneath us shakes
Our world once full of ice has slowly drowned us in its lakes.
And yet, you turn away with nothing too short of a shrug
What am I to do,
Oh, people,
My mother is a rug. . ."
-Arabella Katt (xCaptainCl3mentinex)
"Indeed, polar bears may starve and become weak and unable to reproduce as a result of climate change, yet they have some potential for adapting and persisting despite the increasing lack of habitat. What 800-1,000 bears each year can not survive is being hunted and killed directly by humans."
》Written Aprox 2016-2017
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Pocket Full Of Poetry | Collection Of My Original Poetry | Arabella Katt
PoetryA collection of poetry I have written. Enjoy! " I Climb Into The Tallest Tree, Where You Could Never Find Me, Where Words On Paper Planes Fly Free, Watch stories sail across the sea In My Ink Filled World Where I Can Be, With Pockets Full Of Poetry"...
