Beneath The Shadows Of The Old Willow Tree Poem by Kenzie Lynn

He sat beneath an old willow tree.
Holding as still as he could be.
In fear that if he were to move,
The whip would make another groove.
The pain it caused him
Just to walk was unbearable.
This has been going on for many years
So much blood, and so many tears.
Would the whip ever drop?
Everytime he said it would it was just another lie.
So now he knew he had to leave or try.
If not he knew that he would die...
Now his gravestone is over here,
Beneath the shadows of the old willow tree.