Why is this world so
Materialistic
Obsessed with twisted plastic
Possessed by deformed metals
Ignorant of nature's beauty
With eyes only for dyed petals
And the skill of taxidermy
Why do we find having things
So important
What is it about humans
The race that clings to things
Things we have made
Things we have claimed
Things we have stolen
Things that aren't even ours
Why do we need all of this?
We don't need all of this
So on days I don't seem interested
In the colourful merchandise
Or the pretty jewellery
Or the latest human weakness
Remember that I think
And that I feel
I'll be thinking of this
And dying inside
YOU ARE READING
Words In My Head
PoetryThe thoughts and musings of no-one in particular. A collection of short-stories and poems.
