Living, well it's just a job.
The unpaid task of population.
A pleasant job with unpleasant consequences.
We build and procreate.
Make families.
Who in turn amass and destroy.
The woods, forests and open spaces.
The deepest oceans, the beach fronts.
With litter bugs of little ones.
Flowers gone and trembling bees.
Look at their little trembling knees
What no honey!

In the city streets full of illicit money.
Plenty of money.
Big business men in pinstriped suits.
All believe they're kings of heavy hearts.
Stiletto heels sported by women of big businesses; nobodies business but there own
Flicked into switchblades in areas where cruelty rules,
Profoundly.
Where children are still sleeping amidst remaining flower beds.
The blades on the flick knives are strawberry toned.
The shape of the world honed from simple child development to world amendment.
Each day's just the same.
(c)Livvi