The big red brick building
swallows children whole, day after day,
and they all taste the same.
The big red brick factory shoots the children
screaming down the assembly line,
forcing them into the same shape
painting them the same color,
sewing their mouths shut, their eyes closed,
adding computer monitors, so all will hear the same.
One child slips off the line to think,
only to be quickly swept away,
bagged, sacked and dumped.
The big red brick business works the children all the same.
Mindless, endless, childless games,
devoid of joy, devoid of shame,
learning to count beans with the bosses.
The big red brick hospital commits the children
all to the same operation.
removing the sleen of personality
and the larynx of humor,
replacing both with a lobotomy of nice.
The big red brick cemetery buries children
in nice neat boxes, in nice neat rows,
in nice neat fields of nice and neat
and we wonder why they die.