Drought

in poetry •  8 years ago 



The African plane was a dry arc

With sickly, pale prey

The starving swarms of vicious beasts

Were thinner everyday


Precious grains of scratchy sand

Allowed the scaled heat

But none of this had helped them much

With nothing left to eat


They suffered such with killers out

They couldn’t sleep a blink

To walk about in deathly drought

Without a sip to drink


It wasn’t just the animals

That felt the deathly pain

The people’s thirst and starving tears

Were greater than the rain


There was no love or man to man

Sadly dead was mother

One begins to wonder why

They didn’t eat each other

-Bianca Gain


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Yikes! Grim prospects indeed for those affected. Very thought provoking.

Thank you!