The place I see used to be prairie fields, now there are farms and roads that overlap for miles.
The creeks that slither through the woods are destroyed, its beauty stripped by man kind. Plastic bags are scattered though these woods, tricking the poor souls who think of it as a meal.
What have we done, can we change? Or is it to late?
It is far to late for others don't realize the harm of a simple plastic bag can do, how taking a predator from its home to a new habitat that is not meant for it. How cutting down the trees that allow us to live will soon end in death of our only home. It's far to late, for humanity has made the earth crumble underneath our own feet.
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Poems
PoetrySome poems I think of on the spot! Read the latest ones! This book has been on here for almost 5 years so writing styles have changed for the better.