Congratulations to
        everyone who
                                     killed the planet.


                                 My bleached bones were
my tombstone
               an expiry date.

Pasted due,
                            my children
died at sunset.

A planet
                        spinning with
no voices, breath silent.

                              But no one cares,
everyone's expired,
but the plastic lives on.


Plastic shores,
                                       an island
in an ocean of empty hope...