Life as a slave
is not a game
There is no enjoyment
No laughter
Just emotionless
Life as a slave
Is not able to function
In a society that is full of colour
Life as a slave is lonely
No one to talk to
No shoulder to cry on
No hands to wipe the frustrated tears
Life as a slave is not a human being
It becomes an inanimate object
Like a discarded toy
in the rubbish bin
Life as a slave is robotic
Only relies on batteries
Batteries that are never replaced
Life as a slave is always black and white
With no bright colours
To create an infectious smile
Life as a slave is sheltering
Cut off from the outside world
Into one quiet void
No noise
No smell
Life as a slave is being chained
To a heavy stone
Whenever I go
The ball goes
Unable to escape
Becomes a heavy burden
Too painful to control
Life as a slave
Is stuck in the past
No room to smell
The air of present
No food to taste
For tomorrow
Life as a slave
Is in a child’s place
Seen and not heard
Every space to grow
Is hampered
By the owners ignorance
Life as a slave is property
No name
No identity
Just a prize
Ready to be sold
To masters who abuse it
For personal entertainment
Life as a slave is ongoing battle
I always keep fighting
To save the sanity
I deserve to have.
Fighting for a freedom
I always dreamt for
Life as a slave is just
A way of life
It’s a culture
With the norms and values
I have to adapt
Rules I have to follow
Phil the Writer's Block 