Over yonder, where the ocean meets the sky,
Lies an island of trash, polluting with a sigh.
A wasteland of filth, where debris takes flight,
A gruesome sight that blights sunny days and darkened moonlit night.

A stench so rough it chokes every breeze,
As garbage engulfs all in its wicked tease.
Among the toxic waste, in a lonely abode,
Resides a little crab, by the name of Fraga, so we're told.

Fraga, the brave, dwells near the tainted shore,
Enduring the foulness that life has in store.
With a shell of resilience, she scuttles with pride,
Searching for warmth, where the trash piles collide.

Her claws, once was clean, now stained a sickly gray,
But her spirit remains vibrant, never one to sway.
She battles the odyssey, amidst the noxious decay.

Fraga, the crab, stands strong, armor intact,
Against the plague that humanity has lacked.
A humble guardian of the sea's fragile domain,
Yearning for a world where cleanliness shall regain.

So next time you wander near that island of shame,
Remember Fraga, the crab, and her enduring flame.
Let us all strive, each in our own way,
To heal our planet and keep pollution at bay so her crabs will stay away.
© Keegan.Mosby1