Stacking cups

We think we are significant

But our personal containers decompose

Surprisingly quickly

A child’s plastic toy

Outlasts our fragile shell

Where it sits in landfill

Paint just as cheery today

As we were in our youth

A hundred lifetimes ago

And more to come

The plastic drum

Bangs on

Yet our deeds and words


By and large

Come to noughts

And crosses

Scattered across prime land

That would have been far better


Perhaps it will be

For houses to contain

All these other containers

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