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A profitable murder

The earth is being murdered
And no-one seems to care.

I’ve lost patience with this hypocritical world.
The suffocating stench of plastic fumes.
The facade of quality and merit,
hiding the crude cheap and careless
attitudes of the makers.

We’re taught materialism at a young age.
Brought up to be consumers.
Nothing has value if it has not the intent of profit.
Everything is wrong. Nothing matters.
Nobody cares.

My skin is flaking off.

© Bea Pierce, 1998