Walkin on Air

Toxic Child

Water waste is all we have to drink,
yet even after cooking
the odor still will stink;
tell me dear friend
what other choices do I have?
Either way drink or thirst,
I soon shall see my grave.

My little doggy ‘Growl',
plagued day and night,
hates that dirty water foul,
like me he vomits from aftereffects
runs a fever but still wags his tail,
ever forgiving such vicious greed
by those who charity fail.

The thing is this, you'll understand,
we have close by a toxic factory,
where everything is done underhand:
making profit by poison acidly.
So, daily I come that lethal liquid to draw
from a once  brisling brook undefiled,  
now choked with runoff and  deadly  sewage raw:  
I'm known as the wistful toxic child.


Comment On This Poem ---
Toxic Child

45,150 Poems Read

Sponsors