But my heart is pestered by unsolicited sores,
As my bosom is filled with garbage unbound;
From municipal waste and sewage to animal carcasses,
Even human dead bodies can easily be found;
It seems my soul is changing colours,
From pure shining white to horrifying grey;
Man is holding large brush in his hands,
And no one is there to feel my pain,
Who seems willing to wear the gauntlet,
For stemming the rot and join the fray!
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