'' These Inventors Defame '' Poem by Bri Mar

The intelligent one,
Is never done,
To destroy we are more than willing,
To some it's fun,
Watching others run,
They find genocide so fulfilling.

It's anything alive,
They must not survive,
Yet they never stop to ask why,
It makes them thrive,
Going into overdrive,
Their aim? To ensure others die.

Anything goes,
They love to dispose,
Whether it's got claws or hooves,
They never suppose,
They may well foreclose,
They just kill anything that moves.

When everything is gone,
There'll be no new dawn,
The Human will make no distinction,
We'll be well overdrawn,
As our planet moves on,
As it deals with life's mass extinction.

The outcome is clear,
We all should feel fear,
Destroying that which keeps us all breathing,
It is that severe,
Our end is near,
This thought should have everyone seething.

New weaponry's designed,
To leave nothing behind,
Their enemies have exactly the same,
Are we really that blind,
To the death of mankind,
Our intelligence?

‘' These Inventors Defame ‘'