Beautiful Disaster

Cotton Mill Workers

The hats on their heads
Covered with fibers
Those deadly fibers
Which would one day
Consume their small, fragile bodies
Their dark eyes
Like dull stones
The gleam of childhood
Long since gone from them
Lips, locked tightly
As if they possess a secret
They cannot share
Like watching their peers
Gasping for air
Coughing heavily
Until beads of tears
Silently roll down their cheeks
Throats too sore to cry




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