A Grim Portrait

I see a future painted with disgrace
By generations that came before us
Shamed with knowledge of not protecting
The very sustenance of humanity to come

Their bones will ache, not from labour
But a by product of mere survival
They are bequeathed a drained, lifeless orb
The thought shames me, and brings me to curse
Those who walked before me

Only thinking in the now,
Consideration for the after
Holds no priority over their heads
What words of detest, from those yet to come
Will forever haunt our souls conscience

Indeed, the artists have painted a grim portrait
Of a lifeless world, that abounds with misery and sorrow
The only fruits it will produce
Will be like acid upon their tongues
Resentment flourishes, in this garden of desolation

My spirit, ill with heart crushing guilt
Not for what we have done
But for what we neglected to do
My soul shall weep eternally

For the innocence of youth, not yet upon the earth