Fowl Ranch

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People, they are selfish,

We are being cooked,

And served in their dish,

If we try to raise our voice,

Then we are being shooed.

We don’t have rights to protest,

We don’t have words to express,

Our thoughts and sentiments are just a jest,

We are the prisoners under suppress.

Every day one among us has to die,

No one is there to ask for the last wish,

Except giving them all a last good bye.

Friends die torturous cruel death,

In front of the eyes is really hard to see.

Instead give us the poison and

Have some deep sleep.

After that you people are allowed,

To cut us, slice up into pieces,

Or burn us in hot ashes.

About zoffice

I have come to this frightening conclusion that i'm the decisive element. It is my personal approach that creates the climate. It is my daily mood that makes the weather. I possess tremendous power to make life miserable or joyous. I can be a tool of torture or an instrument of inspiration; I can humiliate or humor, hurt or heal in all situations, It is my response that decides whether a crisis is escalated or de-escalated, & a person is humanized or de-humanized. If we treat people as they are, we make them worse. If we treat people as they ought to be, we help them become what they are capable of becoming..

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