Chains of Innocence

Dreary halls,

Tables laden with machines,

Soft hands bruised and green,

Shards of pain bite through the once soft,

But now hardened beings.

Tattered shoes

The cold air peeps through the open toes,

Torn clothes hang over the once healthy but now frail bones.

But hear their silent cries, their whispered plea,

For liberation from this stone agony.

In rooms where laughter should have filled the air,

They suffer in silence- burdened by despair,

Behind those weary hands and tear-streaked eyes, 

A horrifying truth about the world lies..

The small palm extends for pennies,

Hopeful after a long day’s work, 

But the grim leather whips instead

A sanctuary from the other horrors that lurk.

Tomorrow shall be another day,

The sun shall rise and the birds shall chime

But they tread back to their nightmarish realm

Reaching for fragments worth less than a dime.

No laughter, no solace, no joy they choose,  

In their dungeon where darkness ensues

Their laughter should ring in meadows green,  

Instead it echoes in factories, among the whir of relentless machines.