Evil Sheds

Poem: Evil Sheds He was a petty Product of clay For them, just Another prey, Who got trapped In a luring way, Muted and tied With threads Of ransom or some Dead dreads, Spun and worked, In evil sheds. Return me to once Owned pride, That was all, his Body cried. Well, his creators A lot tried. Perhaps, the efforts Later earned. But the face of race Surely burned, In sinful fire; mercy Was churned! This poem is about child abduction