Stain

Here.

Present?

Why am I here.

For the past several years I have tormented myself with this question.

Torment

because we, as a species

(humans)

don’t need to be here.

We consume

consume

and never contribute.

We don’t

need

to be here.

We desire

to be here,

thus,

we are.

We reproduce and take up space,

destroy.

I see the things (places) I love the most destroyed by us,

by me.

In this vast world my existence does not benefit

it hinders the natural progress of the beings that

deserve

to be here.

Humans are written about in regards to intellect and

morality.

How?

Humans ruin.

Through their great intellect and morality they take the world around them and

poison it.

No thought or regard to the salamanders drowning in polluted streams

or bears and cubs being shot to death in their dens.

Just thoughts of dollars and profits.

I water the flowers of those who shoot and skin giraffes

and it sickens me every time I walk past the windows and see

their skin trophies stapled to the wall.

Why have bright, vibrant flowers just outside the doors of

beings

that have suffered at the same hands?

I ask,

as I kill monarchs on the windshield of my car filled with free plants.

Dollars and profts.