Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Apr 2020
What did I ever do
to deserve a world where
avocados are underripe while they're overripe,
pens cede before their ink is spent,
rivers run dry, aquifers deplete?
What choice do I have
but to opt out of the technocratic misery,
overlorded by the Slither Circle,
to make my sways of the sun replete?

My country has a Military Complex
that fought wars over bananas.
My country prints Monsters on Money,
a desecrated spell to spill nature's blood
and use it in every commodity:
the ink, the encasements, the coatings,
the stains, the sealants, the wrappers,
even the food and medicine.

What did I do?
I ate. I wrote. I used.
It's not her fault, but she will always blame herself. All we can do is our best, and that's the best we can do. Much love to you all.
Julia
Written by
Julia  31/Other/Texas
(31/Other/Texas)   
326
   ---
Please log in to view and add comments on poems