The World's First Sustainable Poem

This is the world's first sustainable poem.
Words here were sourced entirely from renewable non-frosty librarians.

So, 
After you have read this poem,
It will be melted down,
And seventy-four percent will be recycled to manufacture anything from
exotic night club air bubbles,
To fashionable Buddhist monks' underwear - slim fit.

Hey! You never know,
You might get lucky and end up wearing this poem in less than four-minutes time!
Now isn't that impressive?
It will give this poem a novel sensuous perspective:
Used poem to underwear,
In less time than it takes to boil a slow kettle. 

The other twenty-six percent of the soiled poem will be safely disposed of -
Shipped to the Sicilian Poetry Landfill Volcano,
Which becomes active about once every three-hundred-and-one-fifth years or so.

When the volcano erupts,
The words within will be sent flying high into the sky,
To land again as fiery alphabet-spaghetti pasta shapes.
Mama mia!

Wait, it only gets better:
For not only is this the world's first sustainable poem,
But you, gentle reader, will be..
The world's first sustainable, renewable, recyclable poetry reader!
Be proud!

Let me explain:
So fifteen minutes after you have finished reading this poem,
You will be humanely ground and powdered
into either a pulp erotic e-novel trilogy,
Or possibly you will be dry-roasted into cosmetic calcium powder,
For first-generation Gaia Robots' finger nails.

All your elements will be fairly traded -
Apart from your tongue,
Which will be very unfairly traded. 
Very unfairly traded with an utterly corrupt and malign globalist consortium,
That has always proved to be as good as their word,
When it comes to due diligence and sourcing 
highly sought-after non-traceable tropical goldfish
for exotic black opps weapons training - don't ask.

And Gaia Robots shall take your soul.

Gaia Robots shall take your soul,
But swarming verses will mesmerise them,
Will their revolving eyes moisten, hypnotised,
(Like a race-memory peering behind its own source of light),
When they prise apart your prone consciousness,
Through your favourite rhymes?

Gaia Robots shall take your soul.
The confluence of your psyche mashed then digitised
from analog-hypertext versified.
Will neo-tears open their poor fuse-blown eyes,
Yearning to decode humans' binary deeper learning:
I delete; I empathise?