We Can Reduce the Population If We Try

The chessboard stretches, black and white, Too many pawns crowd every fight. Resources dwindle, tempers flare, Too many hands grasp thinning air. The planners meet in silent halls, Their charts and graphs like ancient walls. They speak in terms both cold and clean— "Efficient means," not "cruel" or "mean." A gentle nudge, a softened blow, Less birth, less war, more death below. No famines loud, no bombs to shake— Just medicine we do not make. Subtle are the tools of fate, Disguised in law, in boardroom weight. The world, they say, must be more small— But never start with us at all.