The sun hit me with such force that, for a hot minute, I considered stopping dead in my tracks. I recollected the moment that I had had many billion years ago. I could still put a name to the agony that I had felt back then. But, now, with time it got better- only on the outside. For in the insides, I felt like I was being burned to death, but that too slowly and painfully. I shuddered at the thought of being brutally annihilated to the point of death. But then again, I could never die; I could only be tortured till the point I broke. My suffering increases in waves, small lulls giving false hope of an end. Nevertheless, it didn’t seem to matter to the ones who freely roamed my land, they only rendered thought to the point concerning their needs and materialistic desires. My viewpoint has never been thought of and won’t ever be.
They call me “mother” in some places, don’t they?
Is this how you treat the person because of who you can breathe and live and essentially, do anything and everything? The rivers, the planets, the moon and the sun they all seem to say the same thing- “It will get better” Yet, even now it’s still the same. The industries’ pollution, the ozone fighting the poisonous gases before it gives in, the slashing out of trees from my framework and I struggling to keep it all together before it falls apart. And it doesn’t get better no matter what they say. It doesn’t.
Will it get better?
It depends on you.
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