"I used to have a cold, dead heart,
Though in a figurative way.
Until I went to bed one night,
And awoke to a world of grey.
They were unaware, they did not know,
That I was a different soul.
They had no knowledge of the fact
That this was not my role.
To them, I was just another one of those,
Those of horrible filth and disgust.
With skin like sorrel or pitch or fawn,
And never one to trust.
But more than 150 in the past,
I knew that I did not belong,
To this world of turmoil and war,
My presence here was wrong.
But I was stuck with no way out,
And endure was what I must do.
So I decided that I would adapt,
Not knowing the horrors I would go through.
But I was swiftly disillusioned,
On my first terror filled day out there.
Endless seas of deceptive white,
And anguish heavy in the air.
Hanging thickly was the smell,
Of the spilt crimson blood,
That soaked the snowy cotton tops,
And released the screams in floods.
My hands were scratched, raw, and torn,
From the never-ending reaping,
And my eyes, hear, body, and soul,
Could not stop themselves from weeping.
At the end of this first day,
This long first day of despair,
Something snapped inside of me;
My mind had been scraped bare.
I used to think that I was strong,
That I could get through it all.
But back then I did not know,
What it really was to fall.
Instead of strength, I succumbed.
So prettily I broke.
Something dark inside of me,
Stirred and awoke.
But I went on I bled and I sweat.
The aching, hard toil only growing.
Along with the tension inside of me,
That slowly started showing...
Okay, a word about this poem. First off, I wrote it for school. Yes. We were supposed to write a poem about the Civil War for an ELA project. And I decided that yeah, writing about a slave or whatever is nice and all, but I wanted to deviate a little! So I wrote about a slave. W..." http://wattpad.com/story/4329417
