THE ****** JOURNEY

We said we have about a month
To have New Year's Eve and its hearth.
That day has come and it has passed
And buds of March are coming fast.

How much l fear you, New Year's Eve,
A cold reminder how years leave.
Though people with old age proceed,
They beat their drum and blow their reed.

Has madness touched them in the mind,
Or fate of man gets them quite blind?
I don't know why they dance and cheer
For getting older though one year.

How strange are sheep when they are led
To slaughterhouse on truck of dread.
They think they take them on a trip;
They don't know that their blood will drip.

BY JOSEPH ZENIEH