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By Oscar C. Robinson - December 2021

I am a photograph.


A perpetual observer, 

Immortalised in a flash of light, 

My eyes glow red as they witness the passing world. 

The to and fro of my family, 

The silent laughs of my friends, 

The streets of London walked. 

My eyes see all, but I hear nothing of my Earth. 


I watch as our world loses her direction, 

As our world begins to push us from her arms, 

I watch, but I cannot do anything to help.


I observe, as truthful words fall on deaf ears of old men in oak rooms,

I witness the tragedy of our changing world,

Arrogant eyes turned blind to our truth,

Youthful voices squandered and mocked,

I hear lies shrouded by transparent promises,

I watch as rooms of leaders agree upon nothing more than the path we are on. 


I sit framed,


In our brave new world,

The human race hustles and bustles around me,

Producing and consuming, 

Striving for more on our earth,

Always and forever.

In  our wake, we destroy her, we build upon her, we abuse her trust, and never say a word of thanks to the lives we have lived with her. 

In her years she has grown seamlessly into her fury, her fires rage as her anger boils. 


I am a photograph.


I remain still, as the earth moves at a thousand miles under my feet.

And unlike most around me,

I know she will still spin after our time. 

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