The worker

The worker

A Poem by prometheus

A poem discussing the right of the worker

The sea of red flows through the streets
The songs are sung, the flags flown

Rights for the worker!
Power to the people!
Slogans flow out of there mouths like music from the hands of Mozart.

Shots fired
three lie dead on the ground
their red blood stains their crimson flags

A fight breaks out. 
Fists fly, stones are thrown. 
Gas, Gas! 

A wife screams, Help
Help my husband, hes not breatthing

Police padded, guns blazing. 
Fire at the unarmed politeriet

Peaceful workers, mowed down, 
30 dead, twelve injured.

Lazy, uneducated. the Millionaire looks down upon them. 
as he laughs into is money, while the dead bury the dead
The bread maker spits out his bread

Those who did not go are punished while the dead rot in the street

© 2021 prometheus

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Added on November 23, 2021
Last Updated on November 23, 2021