Droplets rippled on the ground,
People cowering in fear;
There’s no trace of them around,
Not during that time of year.


Streets were empty, houses packed,
As the rain was pouring down;
The drops having the impact
Of creating a ghost-town.


No one wanted to go out
And suffer the awful fate
Of being burnt, without doubt,
By the rain the clouds create.


Once  a joy, but now a curse,
The drops falling from the sky
Had become something far worse
Than they could exemplify.


And to be even more twisted,
They had done it with their hands;
It was something they inflicted
On themselves and on the lands.


Now the nature paid them back,
In the form of pouring rain;
Acid drops that would attack,
Burning them and causing pain.

This poem is about: 
Our world


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