On occasion of labour day, I wrote this poem..We eat and work because they work for us, but their fate is too awful to be told in words. May the good God set things right soon!
He bends and toils, day and night
Winter and summer, across acres
Ploughing first, sowing next,
For a rich harvest, through gale he suffers.
Even when his sinews are taut,
Even when his sweat drenches him,
He toils, relentlessly and with patience
We live 'cause he spills his blood
Through the scorching heat,
Through the biting cold,
Even then, we destroy him
His only living, his oxygen
And the meaning of his existence
We nourish ourselves with his lost calories,
Satiate ourselves, while devastating him.
He has lost the purpose to breathe,
All hopes vanished, as he wades
Into the deep waters upto his knees
A sharp dagger, gleaming silver
Slits his throat, his forlorn heart weeps
"Oh God, accept my life,
For my purpose hath been snatched
Stolen and killed. I don't wish to live"
His tortured, hungry mouth wails
Shan't spare the souls that sinned
And the sun shall shine on a day
When the sinners will have food
Piling on their plates, ready to journey
Through the epithelium of their food tract,
But all that would be left,
Shall be the same old wails, but
Of the sinners this time,
Their cries of despair, echoing through walls
Praying unto Him, to satisfy their hunger.
CITEȘTI
Expecto Patronum
PoezieWhen my words lost their way, My pen gave them a path! Every poem belongs to me and any form of copying or plagiarism will not be taken lightly. #46 in Poetry (27/08/16) #27 in Poetry (28/08/16) #10 in What's Hot (16/05/16)
