Born in her nurturing arms

Cradle to death and back again,

She held out her helping hands

As a sanctuary for all her children,

Yet we are children of greed

Mutilating the very being that cultivated us,

Tearing at her body for the “greater good”

Because for us good is never good enough,

Without hesitation

We fill her every dying breath with our filth,

Her kindness holds her back

Yet slowly rage is building,

As much as she loves all her children

She cannot handle the pain,

 My fellow man hear me out,

If we do not change our ways

And restore her to her former glory,

It will be too late for forgiveness

For she will release all her fury

...

What will we do then?