This is a take on the heartless and mindless activities that human beings involve in without thinking of possible atmospheric outcomes
Feeling for air to no avail, black patches soggy edges with rotting breath
My hands don’t function in light no more, demon clouds shrouding my head
Banishing my fruits and blooms away.
Tears I have none, only smother and blight
Like a wet cloth, twisted to mop a hundred times
Frayed beyond recognition are my lungs.
They need to grow in riches, they need to attain praise
The perfect sync and harmony, to create steel and style in plenty
Hatching away and smoking away to cover the blue sky.
War roars in laughter, juggles fire and plays catch
Once or twice he misses the dice, a boom and a whoosh of gas
Burning corpses and a tattered air.
The shredding Ozone will lie waste to planet earth and its developed state
But life demands black patches to lay fresh factory grime
In the sea on the shore and also inside.
The water on my head is dry, not a drop to drink for a while
Famine reaches my gut, Pestilence reaches for that last soft spot
But Death takes his own sweet time.
Proud they are like big cats scratching away till my last breath
My hands and legs ache carving the paths to their money and estates
Feasting on every last piece of my flesh.
No tomorrow is too late, they know not what calamity awaits
When oxygen is low, freshness is strife, and drought seems simple
I’ll be long gone but they will suffer twice.
Pushing through the deciduous shedding green and corrupting roots
Man is the greatest being, or at least that’s what we knew
But my rotten tattered boughs say otherwise.
Catastrophe will befall soon, wounds self-inflicted
The human species with all its trials will end the streams of health
To evolve and maintain standards so high
They need to win every war, improve their nuclear tides
Millions on battle equipment, hungry mouths not that important
The last of the Apocalypse to meet their empty eyes.
© 2019 Tiyasha Maitra