sestet; iambic trimetre
Mountains, they will not move
Or yield to human might.
Its face, a weathered groove
Is not for human sight.
Its rivers, streams and trees...
Humans, we exploit these!
The seas, so full of life
Have ended up beneath
A human, hand-held knife,
One which we'll never sheath!
With reckless abandon
We fish the seas barren.
(some cheating going on in those last two lines)
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