Slave

Run, Run real fast.
The fat bastard will catch you if you stop to rest.
Your caught in the corner,
You shouldn't have gone this way.
Your father says you will always be his dirty little slave.
You say your sorry, that it will never happen again.
But his face is contorted, its tight and red.
As he undoes his belt you drop your heavy head.
Be my slave and count your lashes, he says.
He wields the belt as if it were a whip.
Your fragile body, your life starts to slip.
You hope he would die or at least understand your pain.
And then maybe he wouldn't be so insane.
He tells you to get up and to dress for the night,
Silent tears roll down your face,
Because you know your life will never be alright.