Primitive

Yelling at cows

To communicate

Don’t

It’s the nothing to eat

And the nothing

You won’t

It’s illiterate faith

In a written conviction

Submission

To sheepishness

Meek superstition

Conditions of living

Look closer to death

It’s traditions

Of giving

Largesse

Dispossessed

It’s a kid without shoes,

Without pants,

Without soap

It’s his future

Still stuck

In the past

Without hope

It’s a rope

Swaying from

The back-breaking

Day labor

When seasonal yields

Don’t appease

The slave trader

It’s nature sustained

In humane

Sorts of ways

Yet its plagues

Of malaise

No known substance

Allays

It’s ablaze

With the wasted,

Mismanaged,

Degraded

Potential surpluses

From scarcely

Translated

Inveterate cultural norms

Antiquated

To progress outpacing

Its status updated

It’s really just sad

In explicit

Indignity

Vapid morasses

Morose

In its imagery

Lacking in prose

Like its tax inefficiency’s

Masses of jackasses

Classless delinquency

Crassly harassing

All those it sees differently

Yes just

Synonymous with

A simplicity

Virulent in

Its immuno-deficiency