Humans destroy humans,
for a piece of paper
we crowned as king.
Peace traded for noise,
silence drowned in light,
nature cut open,
wildlife pressed into shadows.
We run,
chasing success
on roads paved with our own sanity,
never asking — for what?
Development, they call it.
But what kind of growth
devours its roots?
Today it is forests,
tomorrow the stars.
There seems no end
to the madness we name progress.
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Author:
Wolf (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: October 6th, 2025 02:26
- Category: Humor
- Views: 8
- Users favorite of this poem: sorenbarrett
Offline)
Comments1
Most poetically stated I agree with the message of this poem. I particularly like the line (But what kind of growth devours its roots) Very nice and a fave
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