Polymeric Rhapsody

Part XVI: Ghost

Tangled in the weeds of green,

Or wrapped around a rocky seam. 

The fishermen they do so boast,

Though nets of life are now a ghost. 

Discarded on the ocean floor,

It really is a human flaw.

Their job is never done,

The catch will no longer see the sun. 

Thrown to beaches you are too,

Attracting seagulls one or two.

But they are caught by your line, 

Tangled up in human twine. 

You lacerate.

You suffocate. 

You never try to mediate.

Starvation.

Infection.

Never no prevention. 

Nets of ghosts, you drift on by. 

Turn your back to nature's cry.