Poetry / Number Three falls to the masses (Analysis)
If the world had feet it would run from its self
Simply citing the fact it can’t breath its own wealth
Of resources, and worldly knowledge given to every man
Can’t seem to stop the suduction of the elements to be damned
Across the universe the creator’s eyes pan
At the diminished wasteland destroyed by his very creations
All the intellect they were granted
Couldent save the agriculture, carfully planted
Not a soul could see, through selfless eyes
Earth’s ruined destiny, Written across the skys
As if it were disguised
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