Slavery
Copyright- Pokemon and its characters do not belong to me.
Trapped in the cold recesses of
the sphere, I lament on past joys.
Fresh scents and smells, friends and
family, the sounds and the sights that were
almost part of me then. I was the fresh
growth of spring, the boundless energy of
summer, the relaxation of autumn and the
rest of winter.
But inside the cold, confines
of the sphere, all is dark and desolate.
No freedom to live, I am meerly a
puppet, with nothing to live for. I see
only when allowed to, eat only when I
am fed. My every action is at the command
of another, I only live so that I can
serve him.
I am trained in the dark brutality
of violence, forced to maim and injure my
fellow brothers and sisters. I help capture
those who are still free, so the master can
taint their souls with blood. Their eyes stared
up at me still with the spark of life enflamed
deep within them. Soon that light will be
entinguished, as their souls become
no longer
their own. Even the wildest become tamed, becoming
lapdogs of the master. Few have escaped from
his spheres, though many have seen the seen
the all encompassing red light that signals the
end of their freedom. What is the point of
living when you no longer have a life
to lead?
Copyright- Pokemon and its characters do not belong to me.
Trapped in the cold recesses of
the sphere, I lament on past joys.
Fresh scents and smells, friends and
family, the sounds and the sights that were
almost part of me then. I was the fresh
growth of spring, the boundless energy of
summer, the relaxation of autumn and the
rest of winter.
But inside the cold, confines
of the sphere, all is dark and desolate.
No freedom to live, I am meerly a
puppet, with nothing to live for. I see
only when allowed to, eat only when I
am fed. My every action is at the command
of another, I only live so that I can
serve him.
I am trained in the dark brutality
of violence, forced to maim and injure my
fellow brothers and sisters. I help capture
those who are still free, so the master can
taint their souls with blood. Their eyes stared
up at me still with the spark of life enflamed
deep within them. Soon that light will be
entinguished, as their souls become
no longer
their own. Even the wildest become tamed, becoming
lapdogs of the master. Few have escaped from
his spheres, though many have seen the seen
the all encompassing red light that signals the
end of their freedom. What is the point of
living when you no longer have a life
to lead?