Haunting of a Mother

a brief and random poem about oil..

slowly we die

in the arms of our mother

we bleed

her blood dry

so we can breed

and bask in material things

yet not accomplishing much

more than murder

of the one who sustains us

not knowing

what the future holds

for her children

carelessness

will haunt us

and point an accusing finger

while they reap

what we sow

for lifetimes.