The Human Race Poem by James McLain

The air is thin on mountain tops
Nowhere there to build a house I'm told.
The rising water will displace a quarter
Of the world where will your children go?
As islands begin to sink beneath the waves
Where will they go not off to war.
Floating cities ring the globe and room
Upon the floating cities will be scarce.
The lottery will be rigged it must be so.
People will have to have superior intelligence
To go.
Pregnant women will be scanned to make
Certain the city can still grow.
Four billion people will go away they've
Rigged it so.
Wake up people it's called global warming.
And you can't escape the water as it rises.