Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Jun 28
No man is free that speaks from a cage.
Choke chains spiked to the dirt,
Sweat feeds the fields like rain.
With calloused hands,
The nameless toil away. Fed a morsel,
From a fistful of grain.
Praying for clouds to shelter the sun;
If only for a day.
A famine of hope. Straw cities of the voiceless,
Screaming silence.
How much is an hour of your life worth?
Written by
Brett  28/M/NYC
(28/M/NYC)   
Please log in to view and add comments on poems