A thin squirrel shivers, with no acorn to gnaw,
shielding itself from those leaves, falling on the floor,
the cold gusts do talk; tells it to be alert,
for it is small enough to be someone’s dessert,
the brown changes to white, birthing more danger,
our scared little friend has no choice; but to wager,
it climbs a deceitful path, to see what’s in store,
but as it slips, to the ground, it wishes it wasn’t born,
but then it’s tail transforms, from a twig in to a mane,
as spring’s radiant sunshine, relieves it of its pain,
a blizzard melts, for the green’s happy return,
the warmth is some confidence, it begins to learn,
prized acorn’s in sight, on a warm June morning,
it ascends the tree; with haste, without any warning,
the heartache of the past, gives it the ardent edge,
nature grants it’s pleasure, as it stores acorn in hedge,
I am like this squirrel, I’m trying to find my acorn,
but with mankind’s process, it’s hard to find my warm,
if warmth is confidence for it, what is for me?
as I swim against the tide, of such a rough sea,
I, like the squirrel, cannot avoid the fight,
but when a human has control, there’s too much a plight,
improvement, betterment, are just but dreams,
as humanity continues, there will always be screams,
no real change has come, as man remains the same,
a core operation that divides, is worthy of much shame,
thus, by such damage, our acorns are well hidden,
as a squirrel is more pure, our deeds should be forbidden,
millions and millions yearn, but the suits serve the gruel,
no such things as acorns, when such politics; do rule,
please, oh please, I do implore, to my fellow man again,
it is time to evolve our minds, to get rid of such a pain.