A small child's hands wrap around the chain,
pulling against them, trying to break free.
He works struggling through the pain,
seeing others tied to the whipping tree.

He works through the days, and deep into the night,
breaking his back day after day.
To tired to even put up a fight,
against the prices he's forced to pay.

One step after another, he keeps walking,
tripping, falling, and dying inside.
The rest look down, their faces mocking,
they can't tell how hard he tried.

Just a small child, hurting so much,
Crying every day for the family that gave him away.
Bruising, and crying with every touch,
earning new scars every day.

Finally, years later he's had enough,
each day taking him closer to death.
Tired of pretending to be tough,
closing his eyes taking his last breath.