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My Game Of Pretend

Poetry By: Arid Land Kate

Tags: Sad, Labour, Slavery

I'm sorry if people find this deppresing, but this is the issue that disgusts me most.

Submitted:May 10, 2013    Reads: 17    Comments: 1    Likes: 2   

My Game Of Pretend

Let's play a game

Of pretend

And you can win if you guess

Who I am by the end

Waking in the morning

To shouts and screams

Get up now or else

We'll whip you like we did to that boy

I wear thin rags

I have no nice clothes on me

And if we're lucky than they stay clean

But sometimes blood splatters for all to see

We work and toil

It feels like all of the day

And if we don't do enough

No meals come our way

You have a name

So charming and bright

No identity have we

Stripped of human rights

Our parents we despise

But feel sympathy for them too

Because although they sold us

They await our return

No one exits from this place

Only in a battered and bruised state

Left to die in the street

Where they can no longer be beat

If we do wrong we don't get warned

I know of one girl

Aged only seven years

They burnt her small hands raw

I have seen animals

Sleep better in barns

Than our hard floors

Which bend legs and arms

This game has been fun

But I have time no more

So guess who I am

And look at your life once more

You have a bed to sleep in

And food to eat

Recieve scowlings instead of whippings

And don't have to watch friends die at your feet

This is the only place that I call home

It will kill me too, that I know

If I don't recieve the help

That we all need so


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