Sad to see the world go
where trash sticks to it from winds that blow
mountains mined for gypsum & gold
human erosion rapidly kills till blood runs cold
our history
as mystery
all that has been, existed before people
quick we are to destroy in righteous praise to steeple
why kill the past before us and not try to know it?
no direction to future we tear down process even as creation-
what even a poet cannot accept
no hope for our shared future
as we ignore our shared misery
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