Death of Nature

Red rivers weave men together 
Like locked hands of lovers

Shared tears fall from somber skies
Bonded by an oath of pain

Footprints travel through barren lands
A quest for hope

Meanings drip from the hands of gods like honey
Their children wait with open mouths

Purity stands in front of a firing squad
Bullets fly from broken compasses

The age is here
The age of naturalphobics

- Luis Acevedo II ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

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