Realize

The blood that runs through your veins,

I am sure reaches no where near you brains.

All our life we work, we tire

Broken in the end retire,

Like some punctured,

Flattened dead tyre.

All night, all day we work

Ignoring the pain, the hunger, it is insane!!

Our wretched souls are dead,

Our bodies on fire,

Live we do, but on our own funeral pyre.

Our life O’lord,

Be worse than hell own burning fire.

The money looks on,

As our souls in it’s vice,

Do themselves expire.

Families burnt, countless hearts torn,

Yet thy counts only the amount ye earns!!

O wretched mate, O poor soul,

The blood that runs through your veins,

It never reaceth your brain.

The more you grow, the bigger you build,

Planes , cars and numerous trains.

But does thy see your children’s pain??

Or thy lovers heart calling yours in vain.

O man that does have life??

Suffer he that made you , seeing your plight.

Then why the sadness ??

Why the pain ??

After all I am death,

Life’s only true gain.

-W.D.