Last Poem About How The World Sucks

Rusted steel,
Stacked miles high.
Fired bullets,
Near those who've died.

Animals hunted,
And people, too.
The vicious are innocent;
The hunters make due.

A world created,
A human born.
A human will die,
And another will mourn.

Shed a tear upon Earth,
Let it flow to the ground.
Wherein lies your litter,
You toss all around.

Creative beauty,
In essence torn.
This is what we've done,
To the world we're born.