Rant

The rain falls as snowflakes in this forsaken place,
Drifting down slowly to this red and barren waste,
Rivers of gas erase traces of things that act as life's braces,
We fail to see a future echoing in this land,
A previous existence on it it's haunted and bland,
Perpetuated by that greed that seems to cling to our genes,
Oblivious to hatred, fear, or lost a loved ones screams,
You might ask yourself what this all means,
We descended from the heavens almost true to our dreams,
Given a planet, the driver's seat, and instructions to man it,
The way we have the urge to fight even when we think we can't,
When words that're meant to sink deep sound to us like a weak rant,
Then we will accept defeat morals will die or become very scant,
And the hardships we know will soon sound like a fairy land,
Unless the future generations adhere to the plan,
Abandon the worth of money and cut off the greedy man's hand.