The Last River Has Been Poisoned

We see them crying but we don't understand,

That the dewdrops are actually tears.

We don't think about how much they go through and withstand,

All we do is take their wood to make a deck backstairs.

We see it all wither but we fail to realize,

That the yellow dry leaf is Earth's wrinkled skin.

The pollution is a cry for help in disguise,

Once we're forced out of this land, we'll start addressing our sins.

Why not start standing for what we stand on?

Why wait till the last river has been poisoned and the last tree has died?

It's the one thing we all have in common,

So let's start before we cause a landslide.