I hope that the
Bread
Tastes good,
Because I’ve left my
Bones
In “it.”
I’ve left the bones born
Man
And bones born
Woman,
Bones once a baby
And bones now broken,
Bones bitter,
Bones bled,
And soon bits baked
Only by dust,
In “it.”
I hope that it
All
Tastes great,
Because we’ve all chained our
Souls
To “it;”
And “it” will continue to feast,
Come the hours we’d ‘ever starve,
“It” will continue to oppress
And until we say “no!”
So say, "NO!"
