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the proletariat

workers of the world unite, he shouted
his voice the kettle, unplugged
percolating for the first time
with all the putrid energy
that churned in his guts

the line of doe-eyed workers
peppering the room stared
blankly
waving no placards
hands not pulled into fists, thrust into the air
but hanging placidly at their sides
standing safely from the precipice

the moment evaporated
kettle spent
the words so strong on his tongue
now lost to the thin air
and the whirring, endless whirring
of the assembly line belt

muttering now under his breath
to the democracy in his head

workers of the world unite
all you have to lose is your
jobs

throwdown3


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