Tuesday, December 16, 2014
My Servants Must Work
Well, due to my status, I see truth
That defines my accusations,
These reposing servants must work.
The work of a touching thousand
Are like service and slavery and all else,
Feeding animals by the birth mark.
This incredible world revokes around a priest
Who mocked the bridge we cross
To enter our heaven that stays and croaks.
What is worldly in the whole wide twirl?
Where do servants betray the faith of creative
People of the heart and care?
Topic(s) of this poem: slavery