You know it’s blue, don’t you?
Only for a split second
Which makes it seem even more
unreal
Sometimes it flows so fast
There’s a white foam-like
substance
That rides its top
Much like the foam that rides the
top of a wave
Cresting in an ocean’s far-off
horizon
But it’s no ocean
Nor is it a horizon
It’s the fast flowing blood of
misfortune
Of pain
The nail gun
The cut knife
The spin of the buzz saw
All
Are jagged teeth of the factory
The machines keep going
As the injured are carried away
We keep working
Watching
The blood of our coworkers mopped
up
Putting our feelings aside
For we’ve all sold ourselves to
the factory
To the dollar
To the bills that never seem to
stop coming
This poem is from my book : Petals Falling
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