Help Is Dead
I'm by myself,
I've cried long for help
Ears listen,
But, Hands shortened
Help here is like a red moon
My pottery plate is empty
I see people eating plenty
And gave my plate for an offering
That would appease my suffering
Help here is a taboo
My raiment is tattered
I see many on the ground scattered
I bent to take one, eh! The owner came
Thief, thief thief, she flogged me cane
Help here is dead
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.
