I know that once I write these words, their lives

At once will both begin and start to end.

And no one will be digging through archives.

There likely won’t be be’ings like us again.

We’ve made a mess impossible to mend.

And I can almost not endure the days.

Successive torture in a thousand ways.

A weight of knowledge of the things to come

Is saddled on my back for me to haul.

And even if alone, I’ll beat the drum

That we can’t live the lives we lead at all.

If we continue, surely we will fall.

And there will be much suff’ring in the end.

Our only home—on which we all depend—

See, I think Mother Earth has had her fill.

We’ve poisoned her for far too many years.

And she has started to exert her will.

We, humans, are a parasitic smear.

A stain across the planet—it is clear.

A mass extinction caused by human greed

The future’s catastrophic for our breed.