Low and behold, a turn for the worse,
Begging much ruin, a hell of a curse.
Basking in riches that sinfully glow,
This relative fever we mustn’t let grow.
Marking the forecast, abating the facts,
Seems clueless denial, if nobody acts.
A natural envy has altered the scheme -
Projecting in earnest, some nightmarish scream.
So act based on merits, deliver a plan,
To rescue the Earth, this timely, brief span.
Desolate harm has occurred at these rates -
The struggles are felt, for they’re ungodly straits.
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