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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