I pray we don't get there.

And so, the trees fell silent, rivers ran dry,
While Cersei’s factories rose, blackening the sky.
She smirked, “When you play the game of climate, we win or we fry,”
The smog thickened, and birds fell from the sky.
A Song of Ice and Smog
876
21
Rajat
Annelise Lords
·Follow
Oct 22, 2024
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I pray we don't get there.
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Written by Annelise Lords
7.2K Followers
·7.4K Following
Helping you is Healing me! Let’s heal each other. thisisanneliselords@mediumauthor.com https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/1664635
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