The Slaughter House

Posted: September 11, 2009 in La Poem

The Slaughter House

Why are we being led to this ominous cold place,

So anxious they are walking to it with a fast pace,

Taking us there saying they are doing us a favor.

A man so kindly whispers in my ear: enough labor,

I ask what favor you call a knife slicing our veins,

After a lifetime of hard work engulfed in pains.

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