by Brittany Melosh, staff reporter
It’s like a sea
a sea of us
trapped underground, deprived of light
deprived of air
forced to use what little skills we have
to please the man.
There’s no day or night here,
only work,
work and reward.
We are rewarded well
with the things we love,
yet danger prevails.
Every day
every single day
we are faced with the machines
the inventions
the weapons
the perilous reminder that at any time,
we could cease to be.
We watch in horror as our brothers are whisked away into the sky,
suffocated,
and turned into monsters.
There is no mercy,
though he makes it seem so.
Though he acts like we’ve chosen this fate,
we are only his minions,
forced to lead a life of trepidation and labor,
forced to look forward to such miniscule rewards.
Such a long era it has been!
So long,
we have been compelled to create our own inane dialect.
So foolish it is,
our simple language.
It’s laughable.
The little masters, they laugh at us.
They make fun of our pain,
the ignorant young fools.
Yet, we are bound to our master,
and therefore forced to smile at them
and wait on their every whim.
The one we look forward to every day
is the old one,
the one who organizes our work
and keeps us safe.
Though he makes mistakes constantly
and accidentally harms us,
he means well.
Through all the inventions,
experiments,
and work, we are thanked.
Our master Gru keeps us under his house
and though he puts us
through so much,
we can’t argue that
what one may call a despicable factory of labor
is home to us.
