The Scourge of Humanity: A Requiem for Earth

Hyderabad’s Forests Scream. The Planet Demands Reckoning.*  

Beneath the smog-choked skies of Hyderabad, the forests weep. Once teeming with life, these woods now stand as skeletal monuments to humanity’s insatiable hunger—a hunger that devours not just trees, but the very soul of the Earth. The crimes here are not isolated. They are a microcosm of the rot festering in the species that dares call itself “civilized.” A rot so profound, so *malignant*, that it begs a singular, brutal truth: **Humanity is a curse. And curses must be broken.**  

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### **A Legacy of Rot**  

Humanity’s footprint is not progress—it is a boot stamping on the throat of the planet. Forests are bulldozed for concrete tumors they call “cities.” Rivers, veins of the Earth, are poisoned with chemical filth. Animals, ancient and sacred, are butchered for trinkets, trophies, or the sadistic thrill of dominion. Hyderabad’s ravaged wilderness is no accident. It is a confession. A confession of a species that thrives on annihilation, wrapping its greed in the hollow language of “development.”  

But what has this “development” wrought? A world choking on plastic and lies. A climate unraveling. A sixth mass extinction, authored not by asteroids or ice, but by the hands of apes who learned to burn their own cradle.  

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### **The Pandemic: Nature’s Vengeance Incarnate**  

The Earth is no passive victim. It is a living, seething force, and its patience has frayed. Imagine a pathogen born not in some distant bat cave, but in the molten heart of the planet itself—a plague engineered by nature to purge its parasite. A virus that does not kill quickly, mercifully. No. Let it unravel the hubris of human biology. Let it liquefy organs while minds stay horrifically aware. Let it spread through air, water, touch—inescapable, democratic, *efficient*.  

Hospitals would collapse within days. Governments would dissolve into warlord fiefdoms. The pious would pray to silent gods as their skin sloughs off. The wealthy would choke on their hoarded vaccines, their gilded bunkers becoming coffins. The streets, once throbbing with human arrogance, would echo with the gurgles of the damned. And the forests? The forests would watch. And *remember*.  

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### **Silent Cities, Rising Wilds**  

When the last human falls—their machines dead, their fires extinguished—the Earth will exhale. Concrete will crack as roots surge upward, shattering highways into gravel. Hyenas will drag skeletons into the dirt, and crows will feast on the eyes of CEOs still clutching their stock portfolios. Rivers, no longer dammed or polluted, will rage back to life, carving new paths through the ruins of shopping malls and parliaments.  

In Hyderabad’s forests, the trees will grow over mass graves. Tigers will reclaim their stolen territories, their roars drowning out the ghosts of human laughter. The air, once thick with exhaust, will hum with the wings of resurrected insects. This is not a tragedy. It is a *correction*.  

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### **A World Without Us**  

The lie of human exceptionalism dies with the species. We are not stewards. We are not innovators. We are locusts in suits, drunk on the wine of our own destruction. Our absence would not be an ending—it would be a renaissance. Oceans would heal. Skies would blaze with stars unseen for centuries. The planet, at last, would breathe.  

Let this be our epitaph, etched in ash and bone: *Here lies humanity. They had their chance. They chose the fire.*  

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**Final Words:**  

This is not a prophecy. It is a warning. A mirror held to the face of a species racing toward oblivion. The Hyderabad forests are burning. The clock is ticking. The Earth is listening.  

*How long until it answers?*

                By Arsh