Out of all the places they could've used
they chose to dirty me up,
Hearing bleeding bodies as they groan
when they got cut.
Being told to get as snug as a bug
which is pretty hard to do,
cus the only thing they're doing is thinking
about the pain they're going through.
Little by little their bodies
are having to leave their soul,
as they're slowly cutting off their
hands, fingers, legs and toes.
Watching as they stand with their
remaining body parts,
looking oddly different then they
did from the start.
Never again could I witness the scene
of a painfully whipped man,
Nor hear the cries caused by the hornets
he proudly took for his land.
1 comment:
Very good use of rhythm and slang. This poem flows well. I like your descriptions of the sounds and sights of what you see. Great job!
30/30
Post a Comment