That Time of Year

Everything looks brown

But the moon is gold

I wonder if she can hear the Earth sobbing

The harvest gains less several single year

Farmers blame the city

I blame the city too

I also blame the farmers

I blame the people

Earth cries out again

The oceans are shrinking

Just like the crops

Overpopulation has somehow happened

Just more people to kill the Earth

I'd pray the farmers hear her pleas

They don't.

They just continue harvesting crops.

This poem is about: 
Our world
Poetry Terms Demonstrated: 


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