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Wednesday 2 October 2019

Plastic Trees


I am not my mother. 
Precious flower
Living by the river
Tending to her plants
Making them flower.
Sitting below her trees
Singing to their fruits.

I am plastic bags
And polluted lungs.
Failed attempts
Desperate actions
Zero effects 
Reusable bags
Forgotten plastic straws

She will not be. 
Earth, Birth.
In pain, in vain. 
Carbon printing
As we lie waiting
Living while dying.

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