In the sweatshop

I sit here on the stool, no school, no play,

All I hear is "BANG! CRASH! WHIRR!"

All the time, all day,

And here I see the worker next to me crying,

And this one is my friend, in a way...

I long to help my coworkers, drowning in smoke, but all I here is

"Keep Working On That Diesel Body!"

I hope my descendants don't wind up like this,

Working like horses all day.

And here is my buddy Warren, working and whistling.

It appears to be a happy tune.

He says life is a song.

Why??

Poetry Poem

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