A dirge
She sings for love but crying all the time,
it is a sad song of deception and a growing disappointment,
cheated of her life her melancholy is forever growing inwards
in a dreadful pain affecting heart and lungs, like in consumption;
but her tears will ultimately release her, since that flow
is purging not just her but all that know her,
since her empathy is so exceeding strong and deep
that anyone who can at all perceive it
must be touched profoundly and not ever choose to fail her,
although everybody does, since no one understands her grief,
the constant flow of tears of blood, for nothing, seemingly;
but with her cries all nature, half of all the forests of the world
now being gone, annihilated, burnt, cut down and ruined,
while all wildlife is increasing in extinction
and the monster man keeps violating Mother Earth
with no consideration, afterthought or sense at all
while she is suffocated by his burning tyranny
transforming forests into cinders so that earth no more can breathe.
And you are crying out your tears of blood for all humanity.
I can not dry them up, but only add to them.
Poetry by Christian Lanciai
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Written on 2006-10-15 at 14:20
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