Shackled

These hills shackle me. The men can’t leave the coal. The women can’t leave the men. I can’t leave this camp. Every garment I attempt to wash, Every meager meal I serve further binds me. I cannot escape the noise, The paper thin walls filled with voices, Like inmates hollering at prison guards. The night is never placid anymore. It is filled with unidentifiable sounds. Some say they are man-made sounds, But I cannot believe that a human could ever emit such an unearthly screech. I cannot escape these muddy paths called roads, The sludge weighing down my feet with every step, Like everything else in this abyss. We bear all the pain, it seems, Yet we reap no rewards. They have the chance to leave, The men. But never take it. So, I cannot leave.