Yeeeeeahhhh.
Creative wirting got me into a poemy mood. And of course it will be dismal and dark! Why? Because lots of poetry is.
The Freeless
We drank our water and ate our bread
Knowing the imminence of our last breath
From our ship we waved to the dead
Passing under the bridge of death
The others scrambled to claw the dirt
Knowing freedom was less than a dearth
Jealous of the callow birds
Who were as free as themselves from their day of birth
No life we had but endless murk
As our captors danced, full of mirth
Naught else to do but count our hurts
Before we threw ourselves into the hearth
The flames our livers they lick them we let
Our songs live with the sons that we left
Sing of how unequal we to ourselves wouldn’t bet
And how shackles and betrayal leave our bones bereft
Hauhauhauhauha. Full of GLOOMY GOODNESS. Okay, maybe I should do real homework now.
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