Slave | By: Willie Buchanan | | Category: Poem - History Bookmark and Share



The stench is very strong.
 I must hold out however long.
Many miles from home.
I am weary to the bone.

We sail many days and night,
still no land in sight.
Painful blisters on feet and hand.
Pig slop is not for man.

Aboard this cruel ship,
I feel  the devils whip.
Death is in this galley,
and I want so to be free.

Hatred burns in my brain,
while captors inflict pain.
Will I die before I go insane?
I pray for strength to break chain!

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