Futures Child

Future‘s child…

Our mother bleeds, not blood but oil,
open, oosing poison from a sceptic boil.
We wring our hands and say it’s done,
no blame is to be taken, by anyone.

They dig with speed to make their cash,
as another piece of earth turns to ash.
Asked if they would live beside their work,
to busy to answer as their shoulders shirk.

The poor are left to clean the mess,
as the rich see therapists, for stress.
What will be next for the future’s child,
do we return them back, to the wild.

Mountains start to crumble, rivers overflow,
earths fatale wounded awaiting the final blow.
Are our hero’s all fake, just images of screen,
has no one to emerge with a past that’s clean.

We hear from politicians they all sound the same,
most are in the pockets of the ones who are to blame.
Can none profess I’m clear of all wealthy corruption,
and help us find a future without a lethal eruption.

Why does our children’s future need their guide,
do they have something from the past to hide.
Are our children to become the wealth’s tool,
to do the work and ensure it’s they who rule.

Who will carry the weight of their tomorrows,
will they be left with all our waste and sorrows.
We must start to shout every chance we get,
I’m afraid all we’ll leave our children is regret.

Are not our children the truest of futures,
as we carelessly sweep into another year ten.
Or do we leave them to the earth butchers,
and let them reminisce of the world back then.