Back then, I was the color of coal


Chained and whipped with a lash


Now all I have is my dignified soul


With an exterior of bloody ash 


I work from dusk till early dawn 


My hands ache from the pain of it all


The others let out a simple yawn


But Alas! They are puppet masters - and I their doll


Oh, how I wish for freedom to come one day 


For I cannot simply run away


The gun would shoot me, don't you see?


With the pesky silver bullets it holds


If I ever walk away free


I'll fall along the roads knocked out cold 


I fear for death, for what comes after it?


God shall save me sometime soon I suppose 


Sure, they have brawns yet I have wit


But should I sleep for eternity or a short doze 


I am lying here still in pain


So what else do I have to gain 

This poem is about: 
Our world
Guide that inspired this poem: 
Poetry Terms Demonstrated: 


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