The trash, I see, like sand on your green grasses

Littered so far, so wide, it’s like the stars in the sky

Do they not see your beauty? Do they not see their cruelty?

You take care of them, you house them, you feed them

How ungrateful and how shameful.

They tear down your magic and replace it with havoc

With people, with buildings, that continue on living, oh it must leave you livid

All your wonders they try to mimic

Your animals, your aquatic life, so vivid

Almost everything they do comes straight from you

Their velcro, from your burdock burrs

Their fans, from your centripetal movement

Their adhesives, your gecko's toes

Have they ever heard the sound of rain? Have they ever noticed the complexity of the brain, all the things that take place in a hurricane?

It’s inhumane, their selfishness, their carelessness in what they do

Their effectiveness, when it’s for them and not you.

They must be defective, oh they must think they’re impressive!

To cheat off of you, to steal, to make a deal out of you,

“I’ll take those plants right there, how much is it? Three, four pieces of bark?”

They take and they take, and then go to the park to admire you

They start a fire out of you and destroy the view

They complain about minor inconveniences, like their long, shiny, god-like hair getting in their faces as your wind blew. Your weather, when it’s cloudy and not blue.

You’re like The Giving Tree. You know, that book from Shel Silverstein?

You’re always giving, and never ask for anything in return.

You’re always forgiving, you might begin to get stern

Whenever your tantrums happen, but this isn’t our planet.

We don’t have the right to be bandits, not from you!

However we landed, whether it was from an almighty being, or if we grew

If we came from caribou, whoever we look up to, it’s tried and true,

That we belong to you. This is our home, you are our dome,

Not just styrofoam that we can take and tear up as much as we want to,

We can’t continue to act nonchalant as we throw our sugarcans into your enchanted forests,

Into your beautiful concoxion of hydrogen and oxygen.

You’re so much more than just a wall, a surface, a small pale dot at the start of this circus

You’re not a joke, you’re to be taken serious

I’m sorry that we’re so delirious and mischievous.

I’m sorry that we’ve been so oblivious period after period, the more we grow, the more we start to act like buffalo.

We start to disappear, the time is getting near for you to explode

For you to derail, and to start all over, for you to get some closure

Hopefully we change, hopefully we begin to rearrange our ways and give you all the praise

But until we do, I’m sorry for our misuse and I’m sorry for all that we do.


This poem is about: 
Our world


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