The Child Worker: The Urine Factory

Let’s play
I am mature
At far too young an age
Lingering in my misconceptions
In wombs of failing times
And eras of disgust
I am conceived
I learn to work
I play with these machines
Monsters roaring at my face
I smile back, but they still roar

I swing myself across the metal plates
And when it hurts
I think of love
The image of my family
In these sad lands
We have to toil
We have to work for liberty
Only to hail another dawn
Of self-inflicted bigotry

Plastic handcuffs
These shackles here
Across my arms
This factory
It represents the day and age
In which a child far away
Is set to learn life’s misery
Too early on
A day where people’s needs are far beyond
The prospects of humanity

And so my fate is cast to doubt
The fate of our entirety
Lies in the cleavage of this slum
Breastfeeding us with certainty
That far beyond these metal prongs
We glorify our own country
What glory can there be in pain?
An economic victory?
And as we squeeze ourselves to grow
Without confined morality
The whole world chants our glorious name
They say we’re making history

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Character: 79/100 (We’re getting closer!)