Whats beautiful in the world seems to be cracking. Like the edge of the world, we are like a rug slipping. Our tree's once glooming, our tree's once bright. Now destined to perish to the ground. The tears of our sky above us, not to be seen, driven to quitting. And though we tear down our atmosphere, not taking the time to understand the depth of our sins.
The tears on the whales face, the tears on our native animals soon to be extinct. They say, " dont hate me now". But in case they hadn't noticed, we are closed to extinction ourselves. Like the broken glass, and the blood flow from your veins. Ready to be buried with the rest of earths beauty.