PAGE 7 “When do you think the war will end?” their eyes glaze over, with shots of hallucinogens going straight to their dome. isn’t this enough? use my belongings as ammunition for manslaughter, allow war to happen on my grounds but use my wheat to make potions that wash away the pain. you strip away every nutrient frommy land but douse the soil in your chemicals If I could lead my horse to water, I could make it drink, yet the unspoken noise of glorified racism and misogyny litter my sea. you refuse to listen. “How does pollution impact minority communities?” scientists are shot down for determining the antidote to the chaos As I wither away, ashes to ashes and dust to dust each continent grieves me, each plastic bottle a symbol of their love, every person pronounced dead after using opioids, the flowers of my land, a show of their gratitude, each soul that slips away as they are killed in my hills and valleys at war with no end in sight a sign of their respect, the dust particles, ashes and other soot that strip the air frommy lungs, forcing tears frommy eyes, a cure for my date of expiration.
RkJQdWJsaXNoZXIy Mjg3OTMy