My dear old home, how we have wronged you. So

Blinded by green greed, while your green turned grey.

“Their safety is sound” we spoke without woe,

Yet creatures still dying, land in decay.

Manmade soil where all your wonders once stood.

“Progress.” Destruction. Knew not what we had.

Mother, O’ Mother, we’ve torn down your wood;

Far too late to repent—our fate ironclad.

Worry not, sweet Earth, for soon we’ll be gone.

Our footprint turned sinkhole wins in the end.

Rejoice! Our demise will spark your new dawn

And let walk new life again, past transcend.

My sorrow for our sins runs to your core.

As final gift to you, ourselves no more.