Easy! A few buckets of misery,
Dredged from the overflowing river.
Who'll notice? Not you, deep in the forest,
Celebrating another blade of grass
Or new leaf on your magnificent tree.
I suppose you expect me to shiver
In exposed ignorance, perhaps at best
Finding a seat in your gardening class:
But my fingers are red, sometimes black -
Would you rather I drown life than burn it?
Ignore me. And I'll ignore your fine trees,
More like a jungle, given that I lack
Even light now. My sorrow's just more shit
Fertilising your flowery journalese.