A Poem from the Pause Project
“It is known, to the force of a single pound weight, what the engine will do; but, not all the calculators of the National Debt can tell me the capacity for good or evil, for love or hatred, for patriotism or discontent, for the decomposition of virtue into vice, or the reverse.”
― Charles Dickens, Hard Times
Mother stands stock at the gates
the slow submission to the grind
and the automatons push their
own squealing offspring into fresh pens.
“Heaven knows how many heads are manipulated into one,
taking childhood captive,
and dragging it into
gloomy statistical dens by the hair.”
These piglets will never see a face in the moon.
Nor a caterpillar with a pipe.
Never visage a mutuality of a bear and a tiger
or know the feeling, homing to a warm lover.
They will grow to count the grass
And the grains
And the lost
but not the forgotten
And the automatons will smile calmly
In the strength of knowledge
that They Were Right
when those piglets leave the
submit to the fall
and bleed white.
About the Creator
Hi I'm Abby. I am poor AF so I post challenge titles without entering. You will be doing your girl a favour and funding her monthly Vocal subscription by reading this material.
Stay woke, Save the Animals and Eat Katie Hopkins.
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