Who Are We...

I wanted to write a poem about how humans are ironically murdering their home (mamma Earth), not that I'm a "tree-hugger", though. I just thought it'd be an interesting topic to try and convey.

Who Are We?

Who are we to make the rules?

That Mother Nature dies.

We throw her around like rusted tools,

And make her earth filled with flies.

The rotten corpse of her beautiful body,

Now lay crushed beneath our feet.

Are her dying screams heard by anybody?

No they are covered with concrete.

Her children who provide the substance for life,

Are chopped and beaten down.

Cut and torched by man’s knife,

And used with no trace to be found.

She cries and weeps and you hear no pain,

Your ears are filled with smog,

She tries to get your attention but all in vain,

Your minds are clouded and fogged,

She yells and screams and we deny all,

We say we are doing just fine.

We of all people cannot deny her call,

Or with the angels we soon shall dine.

Do not misuse her and do not abuse,

For this is our only home.

After it’s over we have no excuse.

We’ll have left her beaten and alone.

Author's Note

As you can see there is a lot of personification going on in this, but please comment, review, do whatever you want, but tell me what you think of it!

Reviews

[Distant horizons]

If only more thought this way. Well written with a solid message and form to it.

[Marie]

This is a good poem with a great message. It certainly says a lot about today's civilazation.
Can you use something besides "Or with the angels we soon shall dine."? I don't think it fits with the rest of the lines.