The Final Crisis
Look outside and see the trees,
Fluttering like bird's wings in the breeze,
Things won't be like this in a century or two,
If polluting is what we do.
Seize the night, seize the day
Things won't always be this way.
Dense forest, towering trees,
Steep mountains, vast seas.
All of this beauty gone and more,
Mankind has a lot to answer for.
The more we decide to desecrate our land,
The more we decide to suffer by our own hand.
And when we come to the time when it's too late to care,
When all of our precious Earth has been stripped bare.
We will look back at this time of utter nonchalance
And we will see selfish fools who failed to muster a response,
To the greatest crisis of our age,
The final crisis, the final page.
Copyright © Rhys Owen | Year Posted 2016
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