JLH ( / )

Letter From The Slave

My fair dear master....
I'm writting this letter, though i know you will not read it.
You treat us all like we're nothing but someone to do the labor.
We are not human in your eyes.
And we cant object.
We just sit there dissapearing into our masks.
As you pretend to be sitting on a throne.
We cannot defy you.
We're left silently crying
All us suffering in pain.
Laying in our own blood.
Dying just for you as you walk all over us.
Not caring unless we stand up.
And fight back.
We only do when the whip you keep is hidden.
Then you tell us that you care.
That you do not treat us this way.
If you read this i know you'll laugh so hard and accuse me
Of lying.
Your whip of a thousand hurts that reflects your own
Black heart will find a way to get me.
I know that if you read this all that will be true.
So this may be a waste...
Of pen and paper and time...
But the fire is all that this shall meet.
And this is only the begining of the things i could tell...
If i was allowed.
Sincerily,
one of the nameless cries that fall deaf to your ears,
my ugly, beautiful, dumb master

That night the slave never left her tiny shack
She never moved
She had cried and pleaded and bled,
But of course it was not worth it
and this letter never seen again

Welcome to my reality

December 2006

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Comments (2)

A painful story, all the more painful, because somewhere tonight, it is true reality for too many people in one form or another.
i like this poem alot. u have a creative mind.