It Is Not Raining

A makeshift effort is put into careless hands,

And toxic vapors fumigate the air into poison,

Secretes the venom gently above the earth,

But it is not raining,

The mountain tops are buried in heaps of filth,

Tunnels beneath us carry sickening piles of it,

Pours out over the vastness of the ocean,

And it still has not rained,

Ruptures in the ground spew a liquid black,

And engulfs the sea, the earth with suffocating scum,

Our treasure is out there, drapes over our life,

But there is still no rain,

There are words that destroy life, burns and lies,

It chokes it with pills, leaves trails of blood and disease,

We are sickly, and pouring our putrid vile,

If only the skies would rain,

There is a drop of water above, and this is what I see,

A collection of our most disgusting rewards,

It reaps the unbearable weight of poison, imagine the taste,

And to breathe, we will gasp and hoard,

It’ll only take time to watch it shatter, this luscious picture,

Cover it up in black, and we’ll feel the pain,

Remind yourself, when life grows where we discard,

And you will remember this, when it rains