A TREE

A tree

A stationary tree

The bark so righteous; its core so pure

The leaves illuminate with the sunlight

The roots befriend the live earth

All as one, freely

 

A human

A cross human

The skin pungent and oily, exterior crude

Their hardened minds dripping blue

Sounds spewing from their inner tubes

“The trees are to harvest!”; spitting dew

Less and less they grew

Few, no new

None left to sew

More to mow, and mow, and mow

“Soon, the world will grow!”

 

Empty oceans

Dearth of earth

Smoldered books

Pristine televisions

Crisp dollars

Bloodshot eyes

Shallow pleasure

All we need

 

A tree

A dead tree

A dead human

Nothing.

Noah Carmona

VT

18 years old

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