This is a poem I found that I wrote when I was ten. I think we had to write one to do with the environment for school. Remember it's quite old so don't expect it to be great.
Reality.
The pellets of rain plunging from the grey smoke,
Landing on fractures of wood held by rope.
You look from above and see green clouds falling,
And underneath, the monsters are roaring.
With their giant fallow paws, waiting to pounce,
Ready to eradicate every ounce.
The animals are cowering, behind the swift blades of grass,
Waiting for the hours to tick past.
They rip and tear away at our wildlife,
Logging and logging, so now it is rife.
The men in yellow, their faces so smug,
Ridding this world, down to the last bug.
Their habitats dying with the setting sun,
And with this erosion, their lives almost done.
And we just stand, and watch this violence,
Waiting here in deathly silence.
As they count their numbers with specificity,
Trying to hide, away from reality.
-Wicca-Warriors
Comment what you think!
