Why We'Re Here Poem by Adam Hollingsworth

Nature to dust
I am at a bust
Creaking sounds, and
Finding crowns,
On a forever green,
While losing good deeds,
It’s a smoking seed,
That falls to ashes,
Inside our trees

The way it screams
It makes me want to bleed
Dieing sounds,
And never found
Fall to winter
And summer to spring
The tree is life
While murdered with a knife
Death is only greed
When people lose their creeds

Possessions mean nothing
People are the meaning
While killing the masses is hopeless
Yet we love it so dope bliss
Insanity runs in the streets
Rebellion is our feed, so
Feed the monster as it grows
Soon an angel, you have sowed
Anarchy inside nature’s core
Anarchy is freedom, to open the door