A freshwater pond sits surrounded by trees,
Its water makes one feel refreshed and cool.
Those who live in the pond make it that way,
For instant thought is they’re tool.
Many birds dive down to take a sip,
Most of them too young to do such a thing.
For not one of these birds know what the water brings.
Once for dare,
Once for fun,
Once for popularity,
Once because the drink is gone.
Pollution infects the water,
And the crocodiles within it are without minds.
The poison destroyed them,
So there’s no telling what we’ll find.
Not far away the clean lake lies,
Birds such as me claim it as home.
But the depressing thing is,
This is where the crocodiles like to roam.
They eat the feathered innocent creatures,
But they’ll eat the sickened ones too.
And sometimes they’ll even eat themselves,
Because that’s what the pond makes them do.
Eagles from the pond of purity,
Scout the opposite side.
These tall, honorable creatures,
Have their eyes open wide.
And when they see a bird over there,
Immediately towards the bird they fly.
Sometimes they manage to safely capture the bird,
Other times the birds and/ or eagles die.
I sit and watch it as it goes on and on,
It seems that they never learn.
Perhaps they just don’t care,
But one day it will come back and burn.
Perhaps the moment is worth it,
But I’ll never give it a try.
Because whether or not they’re guilty,
Its not cool to see the birds die.
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