Concrete poem by Jacob Stewart
The Sickle, a tool used to avoid the pollution,
Used by the farmers for harvest and life,
Providing food for the poor and salvation.
For when there was no other solution,
And there was a purge in life,
They went to a revolution.
Given away in mass distribution,
From a farm tool, to a deadly carved knife,
Saving you from a devolution.
Sharpening the blade’s protrusion
A peasants last hope to avoid the after-life
To avoid the execution
And to hope to stay for the next evolution.
