The Slave

The world is dark, dank, stagnant Wet and damp and warm and cold Lonely but not lonely As the creepers all crawl by Moving, marching like I can’t. Silence torments; time’s and endless passage Mixes, mashes up my head With various violent breakings As the world above can quake And inflict a jarring massage. Oh! Inhumane, cramped quarters That confine my body so Feeding, fattening But unyielding to all pleas Like a prison thick with mortar. Scratching, sniffing from on high And fellow prisoners of the dark Are plucked, are picked Torn away and carried off Will they live or will they die? The fear, it grows too great And unrest consumes my mind Run, leave, escape The time is now No more competition! I can’t wait! Push and shove and push and shove Strength stolen from my prison I turn and betray my captor The upper hand is mine And burst into the world above. But captivity is still my lot Strife and struggle never cease Rushing wind The baking Sun My feet are still prisoners of my dark past. I am a slave, dependent and captive Without survival’s guarantee Fellow prisoners spread, grow Stealing my vital poisons That without I cannot live. It is said my suffering is needed That my bondage serves a purpose Growing, producing, respiring Taken advantage of by demands All my toil goes unappreciated, unheeded.