Progress
PROGRESS
A plastic sun, paper moon, painted sky of blue
End will come very soon no matter what we do
Manmade plants, not so nice but real ones never grow
Have a go toss the dice, one above and six below
Odds all fall against you, no one wins today
Some try but only just a few, yet no one gets their way
Our world is no use anymore even man can be replaced
In time the human substitute will be a brand new metal race
Copyright © Maureen Timmins | Year Posted 2010
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment