the little child with innocence in his eyes
trying to calm his mother down
as tears keep rolling down her eyes
he continues his search for food in the mud

he did found something he could share
but its just one rotten potato covered in soil
its crazy how he has to live with this
when he has barely spent half a decade on earth

the one with money flying in his private jets
throws his food away like its a trash
while the same child walks miles
with his mother in search of same trash

she kept on trying to calm her child down
crossing the floodwaters to reach the shore
while she held him high above her head
she almost drowned in that raging flow of water

she kept on trying to calm her child down
keeping her hopes high for the sake of child
to see him live a future she knows is not protected
but must give him one at the cost of her own life

Families searching for their loved ones
After the mud has settled to the ground
And water is flowing at a normal pace
But all that left are the little memories
In forms of clothing, pearls or
In their decayed form as a skeleton

They all witnessed the horror with their eyes
While this poet was horrified from what I saw on TV
Families stuck between the flood water, holding each other close
Gets thrown off from the height like a rock falling from waterfall
 
How can that fool sleep at night after watching this?
Just a little message from him into local newspaper
And the story settles to the ground, never rising again
Until more atrocious scenes baffles the mankind

the town that once sat in the foothills
one night felt the terror of nature
someone was dancing with their lover
while someone was having dinner
and someone was playing with their kids
it all came down like the ruins of an empire
the rocks started to destroy the homes
then the water that followed swept away everything

there is no one this poet hate more than
those little ******* with power in their hand
who would do nothing but sit back and watch
as the world continues to burn in the fire

there is no one this poet hate more than
those little ******* with hands full of money
who sold their soul to build the empires
that run on the back of the poorest

there is no one this poet hate more than
those little ******* who have everything
but choose the silence as a way to escape
while the planet continues to cry out for help

the man set his own house on fire
and looked at the animals who are running away
he screamed at the trees for not taking the toll
even though ht was the one who started the fire
he blamed the clouds that won't rain
for bringing his house down to ashes

the man set his own house on fire
allowed the invasion of aliens
that destroyed him and all his principles
thinking it won't cause him the harm
forgetting a scorpion will bite your hand
even if you feed him