Consome

Like caterpillars on the underside of leaves,
 left to our own devices we devour more than what we need 

I am a self professed environmentalist.
 I pledge allegiance to the Earth.
But I find our side is losing a long drawn war.
A slow slip into defeat.
We are simply outnumbered.
We're encumbered by the hands clasping at our heels,
 Like mud weighing down our slowing step.
Soon we might stop, and watch the rush of corporate fuel ignite.

With each tree we uproot we create more kindling
More tinder in a dry drought desert.
Why can't we be bothered

To make a simple  switch

Use a hand dryer instead of paper towels
For example.

I feel alone in my effort
The behaviour has set like dye
I gravitate towards the hand dryer every time
Because I see no point in consuming a resource in less than 30 seconds
Placing it in a trash bin and condemning it to a lifetime buried in a wasted grave
Preserved in  airless inertia.

And I can't say what people don't know
That keeps them reaching for the roll.
More so I don't know how to tell them.

I don't know what battle to fight
What wrong to make right

As Bilbo put bautifuly;
I feel like butter stretched over too much bread.