Fin
mother earth crawls
with parasites
sucking her dry
'they don't know any better'
last straw too much get out-
but it's cold- don't forget
your sweater. about time,
we're getting old (our wings
withered, we wept our souls
out, into the sky) too
late to learn how to fly
how to die with style- just
a little while, we'll stand &
form a single file, sudden
flicked domino effect, one
two three go-
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