The Edges of my skin, torn, bleeding infected.
My soul scarred for the rest of my life.
My family worn and weary from the everyday heat
The white ones abusing every power they have.
They wouldn’t care if we dropped right now, out of life.
But the day must press on, or the whip will attack.
Fierce in every move it makes, never missing, not even once.
I have scares from the whip, ones that might disappear.
The ones that wont, they are on my heart, untouchable.
As if glass was piercing the middle like a sword.
He has no mercy, even if you do everything right.
But you have to move on, even if it hurts.
Fields cover everything, they have to, or it gets worse.
Children run, parents pray, masters’ yell.
Ignorance can be bliss, but sometimes it cannot.
The children they are ignorant of certain things, such as hard labor.
Let them be, in a while, they will be on this long dusty road.
Parents pretend to be ignorant, but still know everything.
The long dusty road has treated them unfairly, and sometimes they wish it to end.
Masters yell, with out a care in the world, they are greedy and selfish.
The long dusty road is the master, and is harsh with anger.
Step in the wrong direction, and you could be attacked.
To be attacked, would be nothing new, heal and move on.
That’s how our life is, heal and move on, nothing more to them.
Let them live a day on this road, a day full of dirt.
A day with the whip, the scars, and the pain.
But as I travel this long and dusty road I see too far.
Sometimes I pray for it to end, sometimes I don’t care.
All I pray for is that this unfaithful stranger can see.
See that the long and dusty road is not for them.