Let's write a script.
One that makes this world pretty.
One where the trees still tower above all else,
and the golden sunflowers still sparkle with morning dew.
The script will tell of animals in harmony,
and the oceans, a dark crystal blue.
It will fill our hearts with life.
Our souls with light.

Now, let's tell the truth.
Of how the air is full of gray and dispair.
How the trees can no longer tower,
for they fall to their very death, each
and every day.
Truth shows the sunflowers,
only a pale yellow, dying along with the hope.
Animals cannot harmonise, for
competition for a home, looms black
and ominous above all.
The truth is filled with words of the hopeless seas.
A reality of black nothingness and waste,
suffocating.
Our hearts die slowly and
fade, our souls soon to follow.

With nothing real or true to cling to,
we drink in the greed.
Minds weighted down with the metals
that recreate this earth.
We struggle forward still,
until we've lost ourselves completely.
To our very own vanity...

A whisper.

Then silence.

A new life begins.