Not all of our injuries
Look like a big deal.
Not all of our wounds
Will ever fully heal.
Not all the pain we have
Is something we can feel.
But that doesn’t mean
It’s any less real.
Sometimes, all we get
Is whatever we can steal.
Sometimes it’s a moment,
Sometimes it’s a meal.
I’ll run on broken feet
Before I’m forced to kneel.
Others do it willingly
I don’t see the appeal.
We call it work and never play
Because we have no zeal.
I want to suck the juice
Instead I chew the peel.
I want to halt and to hold
The rats who run the wheel
And I’m tired of hearing hogs
Feast and fart and squeal.