They have no prominent meaning,
as if destined for atrocity alone.
They are shoved into a corner,
full of cobwebs and dirt
unable to move and see light.
Help is wanted
but pride is strangling them.
The chestnut-coloured room
will not see them leave.
They are anxious to see the Sun,
yet afraid of leaving Hell.
People are pulling every strand
of their dirty black shirt
claiming to try and purify them.
But they know,
they know it all.
They just want them as slaves...for tommorrow.
Author notes
Hope you like it!
Written August 7th, 2006
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