In many tongues they speak

Yet use one name to call me

Mother, Mother, Mother, said they

Till they grow in plenty and became greedy

I sheltered them and they conquered me

My ceaseless grace they shunned

And bared my hills like their heartless self

Now mounts of garbage instead of trees

Mother, they called me, but set me on fire still

But the longer it takes the fire to consume

Their horrors spiraled the more instead

Poisoned men and choking children

Songs and folktales are all they have

To make amends with their Mother

As they sink me in their faults

Spiteful, violent, and unapologetic