by Princess Cordelia

Created on: July 08, 2007

Like sheep to the
Slaughterhouse
We go my dear

Where the heads have decided
the tails
Set forth, silently fuming/ fuming within

For are we not one body, bound by the one body concept?
Hurt/ wounded
Silently we go forth

Sickening is the feeling to be as
Pawns
In a chess game

To be knocked about
with very little regard
To be dispensed with

Management doesn't bother how we feel
It has been decided
We have no voice

Like sheep to the
Slaughterhouse
We go my dear

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