My Children. My dear, sweet children. Don't you see what you are doing to me? You steal my air by cutting down trees. You clog my pores with the oils you spill. I'm dying, my children. Is there any hope? Pick up the litter that makes me ugly. Turn the garbage into something useful. Leave the trees we already have alone. Plant some more and give me air So that I will not suffocate. Clean up the oils that clog my pores and re-use them. Use your minds, That's what they are there for. Help me live. Help me save your lives. Because without me you shall die.
Reason for writing:
I wrote it because I was angry at mankind for abusing Mother
Earth. I thought people needed a wake up call. So I wrote
it.
Birth sign: Not entered
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View more poems by Danielle E. Kirchner {Cancer}.