All Bent Over

All bent over, all bent down.

Our forms bent over,

A well weighed frown.

Calloused hands well-worn by time,

burned by ropes to pay our crime.

We were children only once,

with trousers rolled and ribbon curls,

feathers placed into our hair

like birds we flew

yet unawares.

Shackled feet with chains clinking,

broken hopes, late night drinking,

when guards who will indulge us take their watch.

Days marked down upon the walls with rock,

whatever we can find.

One day each of us will stop the count,

go to sleep, and let hope die.

We that gave up hope still smile

at star filled eyes and stubborn jaws.

It causes us to reminisce,

of what our hope once was.