This hill that sits under me sprouts tears on my cheeks,

It smells like it hasn’t showered for fifty-two weeks.

Did you not hear the silence of the wind?

So thick with the stench that even the vultures have thinned.

I've seen all the bags, the bottles, the cans.

So many that not even all the fish in the seas

Can outnumber the trash that has our planet damned.

I've heard the Earth’s horrible grief-stricken pleas,

For fresh air, clean skin, a wide view of the stars,

But the Earth is our trash can, why should we care?

We like the factories,  the houses, the wonderful cars.

…But soon the dire smell may reach planet Mars.

The fish have been dying, floating on the water’s surface,

We can’t let this go on, this demand for too much, this abuse

Destroying the Earth, that isn’t our purpose,

So if we just let it end, we have to ask, is our world just a ruse?