A volley of thrashes, the starved boy recalls,
his shrieks of terror, that didn’t pass the walls,
with no means for meals, tireless on his heels.
He should be freed, from the clutches of greed.
Each painful reminder, like a crawling spider,
with intentions malign, his touch too familiar,
but she couldn’t decline, with nothing to feed.
She should be freed, from men of that breed.
In the wake of their cries, pleading for a hand,
as promises broken, they seem to understand,
let us sound this call, before worse does befall.
They should be freed, today let’s sow this seed.
One bouquet of roses, each clinging to its stem,
to watch their smiling faces, each a precious gem,
their faces sweet as honey, worth more than money,
They should be freed, to this truth may this lead.
Under strong powers of protection,
may they enjoy the resurrection,
to give them hope and determination,
lead them in the right direction.