Earthquake

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The mountaintops gleamed,
Their snowy peaks aglow.
Spanning thousands of metres,
Their height unimaginable.

Under the ground,
The earth heaved,
Causing avalanches,
And untold destruction.

The cause of this upheaval,
Is hidden as always.
One might only know,
If he knew where to look.

Kilometers underneath visible sight,
Slaves hammered away.
Sheets of metal, hundreds of them,
Being shaped and molded.

Slaves grinded away,
Sharpening the sheets.
While others placed them in a pit,
Pointing to the sky,
To freedom.

Slave drivers drive by,
Their whips in hand,
Constantly swiping.
Slaves cried, people died.

Little did they know,
What they were crafting,
Were their own demise.

Drivers pushed them in,
One by one until the hole was filled.
The ones who survived,
Grabbing their shovels,
Began the process once again.

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