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This World, a poem

 This World

Halli Michelle Rosin

Age 15


Only when the last tree has been cut,

And the last river has been polluted,

And the last fish has been caught,

Will we realize

That we can’t eat money?


When you hurt a part of nature,

You find that it’s attached to the rest of the Earth,

But you’re blind to the reality of it,

Because we’ve been blind since birth.


And as we stare with our blind eyes,

At the world that we have made,

We stay blind to the real problems,

That approaches us this day in age.


I think that modern day technology,

Owes today’s ecology,

An apology.


We’re continuing evolution into a race,

That constantly destroys their living space.


Becoming black-lunged, sun blistered

Ocean dwellers,

Our Earth’s held up by collapsing pillars,

Of sand,

Being abraded by time and man.


If you think that we have enmity filled disputes over oil,

Just wait until we start fighting for water.


There’s so much pollution in the skies,

If it weren’t for our lungs,

We’d have nowhere to put it all.


Animals with no homes,

And pl ants without water,

And a future with no hope,

For our sons and our daughters.


Plants and animals only disappear to make room for our selfishness.


We say that we love flowers,

But we pick them.

We say that we love the beach,

But we pollute it.

We say that we love trees,

But we cut them down.

And people wonder why some,

Including me,

Are afraid when told that they are loved.


The fire that burns in God’s eyes,

Reflects upon what’s been created by what He’s created.


How much longer can we play these games?

Before it’s game over,

And we implode into flames.


How much longer can we breathe in this air?

After all, the source of our oxygen,

Is what we impair.


Our population has been overtaken by want,

When the only thing that we really need,

Is this Earth.

This is the simplicity of nature’s complexions.

In fact, this is the bliss we miss.


We can only fix what we’ve already done,

Our dying world, burning beneath the sun.

Better a cruel truth than a comfortable lie,


Which we’ve all chosen to believe, 


But why?


Halli Michelle Rosin is the teenage granddaughter of Marge Rosin, FAR Organization VP.

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