Tom The Slave Poem by Jeffrey Kade

Hot as Hell, that Texas sun
Tracking through mud, chained, one by one
Each hand and ankle bound by a shackle
A long day in the field, his back begins to crackle
Mr. Jones yelling Nigger, whipping his whip
Puts an aggravating quiver on Toms' Lip
Lashes from the whip sink deeper in his skin
'Oh help me' Tom cries to his only friend
Frantically hiding in a trench
His life is like a door on a rusty henge
Mr. Jones discovers and walks him past the church pew
And whipped Tom till he was black and blue
After his abandonment, Tom locates a gun
He searched for bullets, but only found one
Tom loaded the chamber
A dead corpse, was the only remainder.