We’re your sickly and old
The ones that can’t keep up
Falling behind in the race
The ones you sacrifice
You see us as disposable
Or you choose to be blind
Except you are setting yourself up
For a future of being culled, too
When you forget compassion and care
You ignore that we’re in your herd
You may choose to see us
But we can’t help but see you.
Elizebeth Turnquist 
Leave a Reply