A fainter plea

Two thousand two hundred and twenty-two-
Seems like a year so very far away;
The world's forgotten every trace of blue,
And the moon has lost to forever day.

Many families are now broken,
And our passions are automated;
Not many activist have spoken;
Life is becoming complicated.

During the dry season we weep;
The earth crumbles into the sea,
Yet the senators lose no sleep;
So here we cry, a fainter plea.

Behind progress follows death;
He slowly crawls behind, tired;
Lively songs escape his breath,
One for every bullet fired.

At night we used to dream;
Thinking the world would last-
And stay forever green,
But that was ages past.

Now as the days stretch-
On eternally,
We warn ourselves, "Wretch,
Is it make-believe?"

As it shall lead,
It may now wilt;
As our hands bleed
Every card dealt.

A black tree,
Vacancy;
A lost wind,
Undefined.

Your smile,
The sand.
I miss-
The sea.

A
faint-
er
plea.