The fog still remains,
Not changed since last year.
Crows hovers above in the gloomy sky,
Over a land ridden with waste.

And the sunflowers are no longer bright.
Dull and wilted, sad to the eye.
As the effects of times long since past
Still affect the Earth to this day.

The people live unceremoniously,
Clothes tattered and ruined by poverty
And the houses, more like shacks,
Have no purpose but to stand in disrepair.

Trash and waste litter the disease-ridden land,
As buildings and monuments lie in despair.
Children run amok, begging for food,
As the adults stand thinking, “What to do?”

Still others lie dead in the filthy ground,
Or wail in pain, corrupted by disease.
But all wonder in unison, gazing around,
“Did we do this? Is this our fault?”