pollution

its not the sky the ocean nor the air, a pollution begets us all, its on our heart mind and soul, but not of the sea, land or sky at all, this pollution a work since a days start, ruiend and lame, like a horses leg been bit, by a large cat, the leg hung ever so limp, the dangle of flesh drip, with its blood a quiet cry as we konw our fate, that power a lonely wait, oh cry the days gone for no good could ever come, that power still not gone, revive a true day, the day the sunrise beak a hollow sound, and that power still far from gone, growing in the wake, we lay with the mistake, another cry as deamon sake for we are that powers take, that power now awake, hide with me this power can never be, the control and future of humanity.