So help me.

So help me,

While you sit here basking in sunlight,

They fall to the destructive blight.

Cities forming, their pressure against nature like carbon turning to diamonds,

But there’s no brilliant shining rock at the end of this conquest. No reward from your damage.

Water stops trickling, flora stops growing, fauna stops living.

So help me,

You’ve spoiled the ground,

corrupted its roots with death and gore.

Fighting, and slaughter, the boots that pound

against the Earth, firing rounds

of metal with intent

to settle, the war on bloodied battlegrounds.

So help me - to find a cure.

A cure for poison sunk into the ground,

For pollution, for war, and so much more.

No more war for peace, no more pollution for plants,

A real cure, or so help me.