Eight Billion, Seven Thousand, Six Hundred and Two
Oh my God, I don't know what to do
All these problems we must face
Or it'll be us next in the grave
Can you kill me or should I kill you?
Our home is burning, our trees are dying
How much longer until we can't breathe?
Until we all suffocate?
Planet B is Mars but we all can't go
So answer me this, who will live?
Do you think it'll be you?
YOU ARE READING
Stupid feelings and poetry
Poetryme screaming into an empty void Content warning: dark poetry
