So tired is this world already, tired
of the steady waves and breezes;
they cuss this Earth, that is so
tired of indifferent abuse.
Of always giving birth.
Above the monotone repeat
of day and night, which is
the beat of battered hearts
that have no love to give,
we live, we die. No fuss. We lose.
So tired is this world already,
even rain has stopped.
The sky forgets to cry
for the loss of our planet.
It forgets to cry for us.