I remember how freedom was the only thing I longed for.
The chains weighed me down,
And I was theirs.
I worked long hours,
And tended to their desires.
They were my masters,
And I was their slave.
Freedom was a foreign concept,
But I still wanted it.
The other children got to play,
And I remember wondering why I, too, couldn’t play.
I asked my mother once,
And she told me,
“Pleasure is not for slaves.”
I thought this to be unfair,
But there was nothing I could do.
All my life it was clear,
They were my masters,
And I-
I was their slave.
YOU ARE READING
A Collection of Poetry Book Three
PoetryContains poems, most of which will be highly personal. It will also include poetry about experiences and ideals. Will contain 100 poems when finished. {Poetry / Short Story}
