Children of garbage,
Sons of trash,
Come one, come all.
Witness the slow carnage.
Crisps are eaten at dusk,
In the morn they are forgotten.
Their polyethylene carcass,
Undecaying moultings..
A gift to posterity.
Clothes outlast the skin of man,
Now clothe the mother,
Mire her in poverty
Bedraggled, like her children
Of garbage.