Of the Oppressed

So this is hell, where I should die

A grave I dug for myself

To lie down and slowly fade

All that I am to shift and suffocate

Dirt heaped in abusive piles snuffing out my life

The airs toxic, my lungs ache from holding my breath

I deserve it.  I am the coward who ran away

Running to safety, or running to death?

Who of us can tell.

I will die here, gasping for air and sweet release 

Alas none shall I find, for true freedom is not my Fate.