Homicide of The Earth

I could call all of mankind murderers, and yet they'd still walk away with a simple fine.

I could grab a man by the collar and scream at him till he picked up the one can he's discarded absent-mindedly, then you'd call me crazy.

But if I cursed and sobbed to the man who killed my mother, would you do the same?

If a man put a drill into my dying body, and emptied me for all I am, then you would call him a maniac.

But when miners do the same thing, you blink your eyes, because that is how used to it you are.

In standing witness to the homicide of the Earth, where we slowly deplete it of everything it is worth, then can we call ourselves better than those who do so?

And if we put on the facade of a righteous person, who recycles, yet doesn't take action when they see the filth on the streets they walk on, can we consider ourselves kind?

Kind is to treat everything with some respect. 

You are not kind, if you put your hands over your eyes.

And if you fear that when you're yelling, that a comment will point out flaws, then you should keep silent because you are not worth representing us.

I scream because even when the Lorax shouted first, in 1971, 50 damn years later, we still make light of our situation. 

We die with the Earth. With Mother Nature, we will fall. So, as we toss our litter into the parks, leave our belongings at the beach, overuse water, and waste away our resources, we become witnesses to the Homicide of the Earth.