The ice caps crack like brittle bone,
While suited kings sit on their thrones.
The oceans rise with silent rage,
A flooded verse on history’s page.
The forests cough their final breath,
Green kingdoms harvested to death.
The ancient pines, once tall and wise,
Now choke beneath industrial skies.
The rivers carry oil and flame,
Black mirrors stained by human shame.
More blood than rain runs through the land,
While profits drip from poisoned hands.
The rich build towers cold and high,
Like iron needles in the sky.
They feast beneath electric gold,
While children starve in winters cold.
The markets roar, the hungry pray,
The cost of life climbs every day.
Corrupt men grin behind their gates,
And gamble freely with our fates.
They sell the air, they sell the seas,
They chain the earth for stock and fees.
Their greed blooms red, a cancer flower,
Fed by money, fear, and power.
The cities glow in neon sin,
While wars are dressed as discipline.
Young soldiers march through smoke and heat,
With ash and sorrow at their feet.
And somewhere, deep beneath the noise,
The earth still mourns what we destroy.
A wounded mother, scorched and torn,
Begging her children to reform.
Yet still the billionaires compete
To own the stars, abandon streets.
As if escape will cleanse the stain
Of all the suffering they sustain.
The birds grow fewer every year,
Their missing songs replaced by fear.
And every sunset burns more red,
As life itself lies nearly dead.
We poison soil and choke the seas,
Then curse the rot on dying trees.
Blind architects of our own tomb,
We pave the earth and call it bloom.
The world decays by human hand,
A slow collapse we barely stand.
For in the end, when all is gone,
We’ll learn too late: we killed our home