Fri 04 Aug, 2017 11:45:26 EAT
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We cruised our way to the market,
To have a bit of the stew
In the palm we grasped the coins,
The mono-eyed coins we were given
Tossed twice came the tails,
And the stew turned to dreams
For the coins were fallen creams,
Soiled and plagued for better meals
Today we walk back to the market,
Forced with the similar coins as before
No heads except the old faded tails,
Though they know the fact,
That these coins are good for nothing
Shoved to the butcher, we frown
For we know its bebayed by poisoned meat
Poised to send the sackless masses to graves
We all know its shrewd,
Yet some still feign the blindness not to see
That they cling to the coins with utmost vigor,
Smiling blankly as they dance to the tune with empty intestines,
And with tainted shirts and trousers torn asunder
Heading to purchase the plagued flesh,
They are signing the end of their breaths
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