The world lies beneath the desolate scorching sun
Within this barren wasteland, beneath the eyes of one
The tyrant watches, saving the lives of none
He watches them burn, beneath his evil thumb
Burning into ashes under solemn authority
They are slaves, being sold like property
They weep and beg for freedom and equality
But their lives are forfeit in this land of liberty
Living his life, his last name is a lie
He grew up in slavery, beneath the flaming sky
At a helpless age, he was bought by a rich family of five
They worked him like a slave, he always wondered why
When he comes of age, he's finally free from oppression
He receives some papers, furthering the deception
The sun's rays shine a light upon a few words
He is adopted, his parents transparent in his world
He asks the corrupted tyrant but his broken laws forbid
He has no real rights, because his parents didn't want a kid
He will never know his real name, his whole life a charade
He stands broken beneath the scorching sun, with no name
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Author:
P.X. Vexxus (
Offline) - Published: July 19th, 2017 08:38
- Comment from author about the poem: Scorching Sun [September 20, 2016]
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 15
Offline)
Comments3
very good!
A strong poem indeed, and well presented, P.X., about a sad chapter in our history!
Thanks for reading. Sorry I've been absent. With the death of Chester Bennington, I've been a little...incapacitated. I'm currently working on a piece for tribute to him.
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