If words were whips

that stung the flesh

and left the prisioner craving death

would you dare

to care

at all?

If names were knives

that scarred the face

and stung the wounds

like a can of mace

would you ever 

cry

for that

tortured face?

If chants could form

steel shackles and chains

and every syllible

caused the prisioner pain

would you ever

speak again?

If silence had the power

to make a person cower

or leap from the topmost tower

in the city

would you feel 

the slightest bit of 

pity

for that broken soul?