Literature
Dead Life
Microplastics sit in my brain,
and it scares me.
People act like it’s nothing,
but I can feel it changing me.
PFAS stay in my blood,
and I hate knowing they’ll never leave.
Pesticides move through my body,
and I’m tired of pretending that’s normal.
The sky looks sick.
The air feels heavy.
Everything around me seems worn out,
like the world is exhausted
and no one wants to admit it.
Rain falls on us full of chemicals.
Rivers carry the leftovers of our stress,
our pain, our attempts to cope.
Even the fish look like they’ve given up.
The ground feels damaged.
The plants feel weaker.
Nothing looks the way it used to,
and it hurts to notice it.
Cornfields don’t look right anymore.
The colors are off.
The soil is tired.
And I feel guilty, even when I don’t
know what else to do.
The wind feels wrong, too
like it’s carrying warnings
We’re too busy or too numb to hear.
A billboard tells me everything is fine,
But I don’t believe it.
I can’t.
The world feels like it’s slipping,
And
