| We Dug Our Own Graves This poem is very bad... I wrote it in sixth grade. Grin and bear it. *grins wolfishly* |
| The world may end, unless we bend to the needs of the wildlife on this Earth. If the plants are all gone, we will not hear the bird's sweet song. The carnivore will be no more, without the meaty herbivore. And all the while we'll wallow in death, for without trees we'll have no breath. |
| *laughing* Well, that was certainly cheery and entertaining. Maybe next time I'll write about pollution. |
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| after that I'm sure you'll be wanting to go... BACK! to the library! |