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No one will cry when I’ve left this earth
    And no one will tend my grave.
No loving thoughts by family or friends,
     For I’ve lived my life as a slave.

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Torn from my home at a tender young age
     And promised good times ahead:
Smiles, kind words and presents from all
     But now I wish I was dead.

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Beatings and burnings, long hours of toil;
     Scorching hot irons that brand.
Chains and whips, windows with bars;
      Working at others’ commands.

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'You mustn’t shed tears for family and friends
      Or we’ll lock you up on your own.'
For me, no soft pillow for my little head,
    In a world very far from my home.

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So don’t cry for me when I leave this earth
     For death will be better than this
And I’ll soon be replaced by another small child
    Sent off with a hug and a kiss.

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Copyright on all my poems

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Please see HERE  and in many other places too.

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