Back to 1800 – a poem

Working long hours,
for a shitty wage.
It’s all yours,
we go back a page.
Get on all fours,
for your master.
It isn’t the pastor,
but the CEO.
A weirdo in costume,
who will presume,
you are his private property.
Demanding conformity,
obey the schedule,
become dull.
We are back with unbridled capitalism
a schism with the days of old.
They are growing bold,
defiled, politicians being bribed,
by lobby groups.
It doesn’t put the salt in your soups.
Poverty isn’t a choice,
we should speak as one
if we want them to hear our voice.

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