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autumn-flachs
autumn-flachs
I am smol and mad
All you see is the green lining your pockets Ignorant of how hollow your satisfaction truly is Unaware of the starving children Blind to the crippling poverty Deaf to the cries of our dying The red that stains the dirt You never stop to think you are mortal Someday oblivion will grasp your soul and extinguish you in the blink Of An Eye And your contribution to- what? Future generations? The economy? This Earth? You've done nothing but taught children how to **** Stolen money from the poor Poisoned the ground beneath your feet The water that you drink You are not above the dirt The homeless The dying We're all equal when we're DEAD. As you **** this Earth, you **** yourself The shining coins and crisp clean money cloud your vision, Hide the red *This Blood Is On Your Hands.* You do not stop to think that beyond the green There could be something else Worth Saving Instead of clinking coins and crinkling paper *The children have stopped laughing, Blood across the dusty soil The oceans have stopped bustling, Bleached, desolate, void of life The forests have stopped singing, Green is a thing of the past* **WE ARE DYING** You have contributed In this race against time; But not on the winning side All you see is green, when the reality Is that The green is soaked in red The Earth is dying And perhaps you realize, too late, your mistake You were warned. You had your chance. This blood is on your hands. Can you live with that?
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Jun 26, 2014
Jun 26, 2014 at 4:47 PM UTC
Money is But A Scrap Of Paper