Infective Poem by Arik Fletcher
Infective
Creatures of angelic grace,
Hide their true demonic face,
Spreading out across the earth,
Further still with each new birth,
Soulless beasts with no remorse,
Parasites to each resource,
Taking what was never free,
Driven by a fallacy,
Insects lining up for death,
Drawing out their final breath,
Nature will regain her hold,
Once our bones have long gone cold.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
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5/5/2024 4:33:27 PM # 1.0.0.1119
