The Sell Outs

 

I sold my soul

for

400 dollars a week

the children I will bear

one day

will do the same.

Sometimes one is

happier in the

lower position

in life,

maybe flipping a burger or

baking cookies in the local

Stop and Shop

or

A&P

singing the blue collar songs

with the blue collar folks

those folks with the

morality and the

pain and the

intergrity and the

poverty.

The honesty they possess

seems

equivilant to a

thousand and

one

bars of

gold.

The frauds slowly become richer

The sell outs become slaves

The students become beggars

begging for

spare

change

while

the working man becomes the

working child and the

spinning wheel cuts

the fingers

again and

again and

again and

again.

 

Reviews

[JustKeith]

Well done & well said. Wonderful!

[Jazzy]

Wow, this was brilliantly written!