My Brothers Keeper

Woe! what is this anguished heaved upon them by bitter tongues that betray, this low some feeling drowning in this cesspool pit called dismay, in this confronting they were fearful, this senseless berating by those who are ungrateful, this exploiting is that not hateful.

The grief with disgust yes! horrified by this mistrust they were fused, while being beaten into dust, the blues of the misused now stand accused! but no longer confused. Then the powerless became defiant as they refused their indenture servitude! the rich man’s golden rule, Confucius spoke on this ruse.

This dreaded waste with the sting of singed hairs upon the brows men, this beast of burden the flames of this branding is at hand upon thy fellow man. The willful demeaning of the poor feasted upon like roasted pheasants, contemptuous! the greedy relentless filling of thy purse they call us peasants.

 

 

 

 

 

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