Look Around

i dont really know what genre this goes in...nature, maybe?

I look around.

I see things.

Things that other people don’t seem to see.

As they walk past,

Heads buried in their jobs, their lives,

They don’t take notice of the beauty around them.

 

Sometimes,

I see one of them look around, confused,

As though the world had changed since they last looked.

Or perhaps,

They expected a change, and it didn’t happen.

 

Rarely do people look around.

When they do, they don’t notice.

They don’t notice the good things.

Or the bad.

To them, poverty is only real on the TV.

Or the SMS jokes they receive from friends.

 

To them, nature is fuel.

Nature is a resource to be harvested.

To be destroyed.

The animals in it only exist in other countries.

There are no animals here.

Other then those walking our streets,

Heads buried in their jobs.