A patched flannel shirt,

Tattered jeans covered in dirt,

Baking for hours, I stand in the sun

Just remains of a war without a gun,

Purpose, a fleeting memory,

As I continue to lose my accessories,

I used to watch and protect the seeds,

Now I stand erect to watch the tumbleweeds,

What was once prosperous farmland

Is now barren, abandoned by man

All because they couldn’t find a solution

To their government lead problem, of pollution  

You can never win a war against mother nature,

Even if you have the weaponry in your favor,

For if you continue to litter what you call home,

She will ensure your fall is like Rome’s.