• The withered crops
    The browning grass
    They’re symbols of
    What is to pass

    The broken fence
    The shattered glass
    The dried-up pond
    The writhing mass

    Of bulls with no
    Meat to their bones
    The children, you
    Can hear their moans

    A tiny girl
    Steps up the stairs
    The hungry crowd
    Gathered in pairs

    The blackest hair
    Does she possess
    With missing eyes
    Her face a mess

    Her walk a limp
    Her burns severe
    Gone, you see
    A single ear

    Her arms removed
    Her lips in tatters
    Still, she won’t
    Forget what matters

    As she walks
    Dragged on ahead
    By fraying rope
    She’s filled with dread

    She cannot see
    Her eyes are gone
    But she still knows
    What’s going on

    The steps are bathed
    In human blood
    And sweat, and tears
    And tracks of mud

    Her lips, she finds
    They have a taste
    Of salt and iron
    Fear and haste

    She loves the people
    Knows their vice
    She knows they need
    A sacrifice

    To bid the rain
    So long last fell
    Return to them
    Protect from knell

    The sacrifice
    Or so they say
    Is picked at random
    For that day

    But she, the girl
    She knows just why
    They’d chosen her
    She knows the lie

    Lonely people
    Are not missed
    No one will bandage
    Bleeding wrists

    Of people whom they
    Share no love
    So she was to
    Be sent above

    Was, she wondered
    This her fate?
    An end on such
    A dreary date?

    Her senses gone
    To feed the masses
    Bones picked clean
    Blood sipped from glasses

    She cannot run
    It is her fate
    She must be killed
    And killed posthaste

    As they force her
    To the ground
    She feels her heart
    Begin to pound

    “Please!” she begs with
    Hopeful tone
    But she knows that
    She is alone

    CHOP!