Microplastic

A silly poem with a serious meaning.

Photo by mali maeder on Pexels.com

Plastic.

Invented in our lifetime but could be the death of all

It clogs our seas and rivers, and on wildlife takes its toll

It starts out big and bulky like a four-pint thing of milk

But breaks down to microplastics, quite small and smooth as silk

It ends up in your water, it ends up in shampoo

It ends up in the food you eat, it ends up in your poo

It travels around inside you, some lodges in your gut

It hopefully gets free again then comes out of your butt

Unfortunately, we do not know the long-term health effect

It’s probably carcinogenic, but then, who gives a feck

It’s in our fish, it’s in our meat, it’s in our veg as well

But no one seems to give a damn that we’re on this road to hell

One day I suppose we’ll all wake up, and open up our eyes

Cry out to stop pollution before everybody dies

That day, I expect will be too late, the damage gone too far

They’ll cry, “stop all the plastic, bring back the screw top jar

Put the milk back into bottles, and leave our food unwrapped”

You’ll feel a pain, then cry, then shout, “Oh, look what I’ve just crapped!

It’s a fully working model of a lego plane that’s wrapped

In a plastic film in a plastic box in a 10p plastic sack.”

And then you’ll die, a horrid death, and then they will cremate you

To reclaim the hydrocarbons that you couldn’t pass as poo.

©Joseph R. Mason 2022

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