and responsibility is mine.
Species disappeared at my hand.
It is my fault.
Mea culpa,
as industries turned
the skies to grey,
and the rains to poison.
The fault is mine,
as my god demanded hate,
not love:
patriotism loves a parade.
I take the blame,
but have waited too long:
I should have questioned, but now
the answer is here.
The guilt is mine,
and the near future looms
as a sere and lifeless globe.
Mea culpa. I am humankind.
