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Rated: 13+ · Poetry · Emotional · #995869
A poem I wrote about the true definition of "slave". Told from the slaves on POV.
Slave

I am a bound slave
On crippled knees, I beg
I give my temple willingly
For a bitten piece of bread
I am used and passed around
Or sold at highest price
Like a puppet wound by paper string
I am not a thing of life
My name is spoken is circles
My title is cast down
Other women pass my way
And spit upon my gown
They call me whore and home wrecker
Jezebel and wench
The turn up their pretty noses
As though I am a foulest stench.
Many a man have whispered my name
In a deep, resounding cry
Prince and pauper
Jester and king
All a simple roll of the die
I promise them forever
I hold them while they weep
They do not even look my way
When we pass along the street
Come enjoy my gifts
Secret treasures so unknown
As I hold you in my arms
You are a king upon his throne
Then, for a pocket of change
I shall revel, in dark
What by light, I struggle vainly to conceal


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