Livestock
Driving on the road
we see them every day.
In their hundreds,
thousands,
We look at them,
they look at us,
And we pass along the way.
"Poor creatures",
we think,
and pity their narrow existence,
Lives determined
by their masters' restrictions,
Regimented, corralled,
branded and ruled,
Bound by invisible chains
though they think
they're free-range,
Poor fools.
It's a blessing, we suppose,
that they don't realise their fate;
And by the time they do,
if they ever do,
It's too late.
Nothing we can do,
of course.
We'll just carry on
and ruminate.
While they slave away,
strive,
drive
and accelerate.
M.C. Newberry
Fri 23rd Nov 2018 14:27
Ha! Nice one. Neat deceit!!