Sheeple Poem by James McLain

There are
no more soft beds
free will
by him whom you praised
the luck of the draw
is all
you deserved
whom you'd eat.

Leaving
all the others
out in the cold with
out sin.

Why do you preach
about death
it will come soon enough
treasure unearthed
by they
that they left is not yours.

Sheeple come, sheeple go
to be used
as their used by those.

I mean your not willing
die for them, nor
woud they ever die for you...lol..
at dim watts
..there's your clue.

All six billion, nine hundred
ninety nine million
of them
eat more beef and less chicken
being led by the nose
getting nothing from them
just complain.