Materials are pouring.
Spinning. Churning.

Layered over Mother Earth we
cover up beauty like makeup.

Mother can only handle so
much hassle from her children.

She will grasp you without

The vines of her depleting pores
rip through the concrete that was
layered so purposely.

Our feet press down on the hardened
fabric that covers the puddles.

Our actions are not alone.
One touch changes her forever.