The Day
The sky is grey
and the dawn can’t lift its haze.
The seas are brown
with the products of greed and waste.
The forest is black
and overcome with the dead.
The die is cast
and to our future we are wed.
The trees just bleed
in submissive conformity.
The sterile grass
salutes our obsessive vanity.
Back to the dust
I crawl in pain and disgust,
winding my shroud
as the sun slumps to the ground.
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