PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

I look out my window

and see nothing but black

no stars in this city

no moon from this square.

But the breeze does come steady

and carries voices behind

and I find it unfair

I can't be there and breathe in

or exhale without choking

on fumes from the smokestacks.

No birds are seen flying

only dead on the ground

and the fish are all floating

on pollution they drowned

While us people are dying

slowly but sure

from things made by our hands

are returned in three-fold,

poisoned and burning

suicidal.