Pollution
Befuddled and be gone
In a creation went wrong.
One lonely star in the deepest night
Bedecked in it's twilight,
The masked words of an ancient song-
The shinning sun at noon
Goes dark without a tune.
While the moon still comes around
Hoping to be found,
As the wild wind blows all into dunes-
Birds won't fly
In an empty sky.
For there is no air
Above a land completely bare,
Where all have left to die-
It's the world we've got
Filled with rot.
The way of mortal man
Changes the original plan,
And all that was, is not-
It may, we pray, come clean in the end
With help from a higher friend.
Still the blue sky goes gray
Awaiting that day,
And the poets beg for help, in the messages they send-
poem by Smoky Hoss
Added by Poetry Lover
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