The Way I Wash the Dishes
Location
I wash the dishes with phosphates
And they go outside, down the drain.
They land in rivers with
that now have chemicals in their gills.
I water the flowers with oil
that leaks from my car.
The spill piles onto animal's fur
and stains their once bright and shiny coats.
I color the sky gray with smog from my truck.
The emission fumes seep into the lungs of birds
who have no say to their fate,
who have no say in what kind of world they live in.
I write on trees with my pencil
because I take paper for granted.
Another home is lost,
soon escalates to a forest that is bare.
I throw drinking water right out the door.
I have plenty but the others that inhabit this planet may not.
I get bigger, taking up all the room built for all creatures.
I am a monster, tearing up the world I live in.