The Dried Up Pool of Hope

Here I sit

Edge of the Earth

Dry holes where life once was

Feet hanging off the edge of existence

I look at the barren land.

Which once housed greenery and growth

Gray and brown and sad

Death of our own doing

Lack of vital resources

Rough scraping movement of my parched tongue

Scaly lips beg for the slightest hydration

Our hope too far strained to be healed

The world around me crippled by desertification.

Why wait to witness the inevitable end?