She moans,
as flames ravage her back
skinning it off the surface.
Skies flare,
and smoke engulfs the air
choking like phosphorus.
The Trees,
are green no more
all burned up into cinders.
The Sun,
she struggles in vain
to fight the icy winters.
The Rain,
stays away from the plain
the crops are torn asunder.
Mankind,
whither dost thou complain
you’ve crashed it all like thunder.
Fazli – Aug 2019
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