Slaughterhouse

By Smalika

This world is a slaughterhouse,

A slaughterhouse where every day, in fact, every minute

A child is sacrificed.

In this show of god, where the generation of humans is awakening

At the cost of tender souls dying, abused, and bullied

Maybe to give us a nudge towards the reality of kindness.

Facts, figures, and façade in the name of religion, race, politics, and borders.

How much time would we take?

Meanwhile, the soul is strangled by our mighty, thoughtful hands.

How much time would we take to widen our arms and hug our beings?

Do we need to belong?

Just a gesture of love and kindness not enough?

Do we have so little to share and nurture,

And yet, so much to divide?

The mask needs to fall for the plight to take place.

The child screams for a good man’s sake.

Fall, fall, fall, because you will fall

To be awakened, to be ripened, and to be apart from the façade that you have been carrying.

And the cost is screams in the slaughterhouse.

Now, you decide how much time you would take to let it go and fly

Or carry the baggage and hear the cry. 

By Smalika