Saturday, November 07, 2009

Black on Barbed Wire

Little black feet pace along

the barbed wire fence.

The only thing scarier than death

is the crack of a whip.

Stepping between the pointed edges,

Swiftly, cautiously running;

The thin wire shakes under his weight;

he pushes on.

The sweat running down his back

burning his sores,

streaming between old and new cuts;

a New Life awaits.

Dreams begin to become a reality.

But the fence, with the barbed wire

stretches outward indefinitely.

The little black feet tire,

and become clumsy on the thin wire.

Shaking, he cries for help,

silently he misses a step

and falls toward despair.

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