Oh, Mother Gaea, we plead for your forgiveness;
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for filling up your surroundings with such harmful pollutants.
We fill the air we breathe with smog,
and deep down we all know that it is wrong;
wrong that we ask for help we do not need
as apathetic people continue to feed.
We feed on your resources as if we do not care,
and as I see the gray dullness that is now in your hair,
we can all clearly state that it is not fair.
It’s not fair we’ve done this to ourselves and we are leaving the work to be done by innocent people who played no part
In destroying and darkening your blessed heart.
Poor mother Gaea, we beg for condolences;
To shield us,
to guide us,
away from these consequences.
May it not be vague
When we are all plagued
by the effects of all our causes,
With our laziness and sluggishness covered up under layers and layers of applauses.
And applauses we gain
For inventing things that bring such pain
To poor mother Gaea.
Sweet mother Gaea, we would like to let you know
That beneath our snow angels
lie many deadly dangers,
for there are chemicals in your snow.
The smoke and gasses that factories are making
Will take away your contentedness and leave your heart aching.
And as we waited
It became outdated
To help fix the ruckus we have all created.
And still we wait
For when it is far too late
To get rid of the plague set upon us all.
Oh mother Gaea, our thoughts to put up a fight,
To make things right,
Has faded just as our hope and might.
Our selfish ways
and greediness outweighs
Our good manners and motives.
And those who still care,
those who still cry,
Those who don’t lie
and can’t help the urge to put up a fight.
To contrast those who simply ignore
and always want more
Of your passion and power and wisdom.
And we all wonder who
We will all soon say to:
Oh please, we beg you
What do we do?
And maybe, with our last string of hope, that person may be you.