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Rated: 13+ · Other · Cultural · #1151379
Down in the hole of a slave ship ,going to the islands and then NEW ORLEANS.
The ship rocks back and forth.
Vomit and waste upon the floor.
Chained down to the secure beams.
Lack of food ,I'm getting lean.
Sold for IRON,a tribal chiefs son.
Where am I going-sunlight gone.
The smell of death from up front door.
Closed in, no air, more vomit as before.
Skin broken from the shackles and the sea.
Gang green is eating my arm lean.
Whip marks are streaking my body.
Lest pain,they were from yesterday.
Up on deck, they sing old songs.
Down below here-it seems so long.
The rattle of the chains our song.
Food last week was fully rotten.
A rat just bit my big toe.
The blood is flowing slow.
Up on deck again- they sing old songs.
My life captured and now forelorn.
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Printed from https://www.Writing.Com/view/1151379