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Lazily scrolling on social media, noticed most of the feeds were homophobic remarks. Please, we all deserve, at least, RESPECT. I'm so done.


Lots of toads around, croaking.
In the MID OF SUMMER, but
They are croaking,
Croaking ..... LOUDLY,
A knot of large, masculine
Yes, Toads they are.

"But, why?
What's with the clamour?"
Here's why, 'cause they are MOSTLY
Green or darker,
With bulging, bumpy skins
But with their size, where
Pride is coming from
They are the majority
On and around the stagnant pond.

"What's with all
These croakings, then?"
They are threathened,
Some pink frogs coming.
There were yellow ones,
Sitting on the high trees
Or with bright greens,
Even purple
Yet, all of them are small,
As with the numbers, too.

Small ones shine
Reflecting sunrays by
Their brightness, at night
Still shine, like a moon
And stars, in the pitchness.

Noises are louder at night,
As common toads can't see
Themselves, nor others
Of their kind, the ones
Visible, were the colorful
Small frogs, quietly
Staring at the stars,
Won't blend into the
Toxic wastes on the
Nearby pond.

© 2021 Kathrine S

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