Like sheep to the slaughter they come in their masses,
The train a transporter to evil morasses,
Herded together, like cattle in trucks
Or birds of a feather, configured like ducks.
The grasses of commerce on which they all feed
Driving them onward, fulfilling their need,
They follow their leader, no question or doubts
No sound from their lips, no murmur or shouts.
They give all they can, even small cogs are greased,
Despite the best plan they’ll all end up fleeced,
At the end of the day with the fall of the sun,
He herds them all up, his job now is done.
Silver trophy winner
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s Lib
An intrigueing rhyme Sue, definitely one that makes the mind work. I like things that do that. Definitely worthy of some beanie bunnies
