Culling


There's just too many,
There's just too many buck
On the field of this world
The game is in the ruck.

The doctors are too good
And cure the old to stay;
They keep the sick alive,
We have to find a better way.

Leave it all to us,
We'll cut them down to size
With just a just a little jab
And the gentleness of lies.

The old can go first,
The sick will follow them,
No more children after,
Lesser problems then.

The green and gold decides
Who will live and who will die;
The myth becomes the truth
When culling is the lie!

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This Poems Story

With the latest development of various untested vaccines, the amount of people who want to be vaccinated on the recommendations of governments is alarming. The poem serves as a metaphor for an overpopulated group of animals who have to be killed to reduce over grazing.