the end of the whirled
a wheelie bin floats down the river,
a metaphor that makes me shiver;
a consumer and garbage producer
i’m destroying the world.
the quality of life depends on the liver,
but modernity is such an arch-seducer;
so i’ll just sit here and watch the waters rise
and regurgitate the denier’s lies,
that overflow from that wheelie bin,
wherein lays the final sin.
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