The Harvest of the Weak

by August   Oct 23, 2004


They wait for then, and in the end
The lead machines will eat the men
Feeble minds can't comprehend
Metal teeth that tear the flesh
The binding contract of a race's death

Children who were born too young
Those broken over who cannot run
The world evolving that isn't done
This mass collection of the meak
The final harvest of the weak

Reaping forever what was sown
Here, thickets of waste have grown
Of all the problems we must own
This one will finally end
On this, our lives depend

Hand in our food, blood in our drink

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Latest Comments

  • 12 years ago

    by Taylor

    great poem! i love it! really creative! keep it up!

    Love, Taylor

  • 13 years ago

    by August

    oh god, i'm dying, you said "i have to give you crops". that's the best unintentional pun of the year. now i'm picturing some random dude giving me armfulls of wheat.

  • 13 years ago

    by August

    it is akin to genocide, but written with a different society's outlook.

  • 13 years ago

    by Timothy

    this was difficult for me to understand. what is the poem about?