YSV ( / Wales, UK)

Feast For A King

Your handsome seat-
Upon a throne of rotting meat
You sit so proud.
A clown,
Spokesman for a generation
Of mindless drones,
Fed on hooves and beaks and bones,
Overweight gluttons,
Pushing buttons for treats,
Trapped in their seats,
Whining to be supersized-
This will come in time.

Your painted smile sits
Permanently on your face,
Feeding up the runts
Of the human race,
Fattening the children for the slaughter.
“Sure,
Bring your sons and your daughters, ”
Watch as they stuff their faces
With greasy lies,
Preparing them for their own demise.

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