Animal Farm

The workers will march,

To the beat of the drum,

Drained, bruised, and broken

They have nowhere to run.

Emancipation just a lifetime away,

Just another ordinary slave.

With hammers and sickles

They ideally work away.

The mothers cry,

Over their lost child’s soul,

As the fathers drink,

To find warmth in the undertow

The workers will hope,

For the messiah of death,

And down he came,

To embrace them in his warm embrace

The animals will march,

To the beat of the drum,

Drained, bruised, and broken

They have nowhere to run.

Emancipation just a lifetime away,

Just another piece of meat on a plate.

They dream of open fields,

Beyond the hollow walls

As they lay there rotting away.

The mothers cry,

Over their lost child’s soul,

Another milk haven to pass to each door,

The fathers shiver out in the cold,

As they try to hide beneath the undertow,

Avoiding the fate of the plate.

The animals hope,

For the messiah of death,

But fooled they were,

For their dying breath,

Was in agony.

Youssef Hassan