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roaches scatter the floors of the factory full of food,
with posters of women on the walls completely nude,
a loud cough is heard that echoes through,
as clouds of smoke plume to bring him into view,
speaking words to introduce as he listens perhaps,
then just turning to follow pointing to mishaps,
stepping around the heavy things rusty and sharp,
then coming to the back of the place to look under tarp,
a body there among the bugs eating the remains,
decayed so much around the skin you could see brains,
kneeling down to take a closer look as the worker stays,
smoking his cigarette that put him in a daze,
revealing the person fell and died a slow death,
writing in blood on the floor until his last breath,
a word written to reveal he was pushed from above,
moving the body a little using a sterile glove,
showing a name and that of the worker behind,
a slow drop of the tarp to not show the find,
turning around to see a look from him so mean,
as now the blackness shows all that is unseen.