In the city where the skyline burns,
Where the sun through smoke-strained twilight turns,
A symphony of sirens wails,
As nature’s fury leaves its trails.
Leaders stand on lofty stages,
Reading scripts like ancient sages.
With practiced hands, they shift the blame,
While wildfires rage and scorch the name.
“The winds were fierce, the climate cruel,”
They point to forces, nature’s tool.
Yet warnings echoed, loud and clear,
From voices wise, from those who steer.
The scientists with charts in hand,
Foretold the fate of this parched land.
“Mitigate, prepare, prevent,”
They cried, but funds were elsewhere spent.
Instead of building firebreaks wide,
Or managing the forests’ pride,
The leaders sat in chambers cold,
Debating profits, chasing gold.
The trees, the hills, the lives now lost,
A heavy toll, a grievous cost.
But still they posture, shift, and spin,
Ignoring cries from deep within.
The flames reflect in every eye,
A burning truth they can’t deny.
Until they lead with hearts sincere,
The fires will return each year.
Oh, Los Angeles, city bright,
Your leaders failed to guard your light.
May they one day rise, aware,
To act with wisdom, love, and care.
Poem generated by AI Chatgpt.com
