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  • Writer's pictureMichael Sauls

Abattoir

poem by Michael Sauls


The anguish of youth without direction

is oft the engine of their destruction

thus so many tragic tales of waste

even as the tree grown wild

with bitter fruit, sparse and vile

that fall to the ground rotting in disgrace

Woe unto that nefarious institution

which pilfers away parental instruction

and from God’s love leads the young astray

instruction, direction young minds to form

much like a light house in the storm

without it many traps and snares await.

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