E-Waste Poem
The children at night;
They cry,
For their loved ones are ill,
From the fumes our hunger produces.
They dream of a world for happiness,
Joy and imagination;
For many memories could be created
From this electronic wasteland.
Think of the things we could make;
Planes that fly.
Think of the things we could do;
Metal that talks.
Don't kill our home,
Our family, our hope,
For we can do many things
With this electronic wasteland.
-Ariana Kulikov 2015
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