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Q Eeb Rab

Contributed by UnmovedMover on Saturday, 18th March 2006 @ 12:03:39 PM in AEST
Topic: Grief

I can’t tell them.
I want to tell them.
I try to tell them.
I need to tell them.

A tear is impossible,
A scream is what comes,
A yelp and a squeal,
After death my skin they peel.

I writhe with pain,
Burned with hot flame,
Tortured, forced to mate,
Finally killed with stake.

They wouldn’t listen,
They can’t listen
They ignore.
They abhor.

Some have tried,
They’re called fanatics,
Some have died,
They’re called fanatics.

Would you stop my suffering?
Even to be labeled?
Now you know,
Now you can go.

If only they knew,
They would stop my suffering,
Endless suffering,
Ignored suffering.

Silently tortured,
Silently slaughtered,
Silently Martyred,
Voices Silenced.

Apathy abounds,
Not killed of hate,
Killed without thinking,
Its my unstoppable fate.

Who are they?
They are the people,
You, who can read,
You, who can write.

The ultimate genocide,
Nothing is done,
Ever will be done,
For my people.

Who am I?
Who do you think,
I am one who you admire,
Only to be treated with hate.

Who am I?
I am the one born with a deadly fate,
Born to sit on your plate,
I am your tasty 8 oz. steak.

Copyright © UnmovedMover ... [ 2006-03-18 12:03:39]
(Date/Time posted on site)

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Re: Q Eeb Rab (User Rating: 1 )
by MorningDove on Saturday, 18th March 2006 @ 02:30:18 PM AEST
(User Info | Send a Message)

Well, I love you with a side of sauteed onions and mushrooms and a nice salad. When it comes to a nice steak my mind is closed. Either serve it to me rare to medium rare or feed it to the dogs. God bless our beef. ; )

Rita

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