Myriad of slums,
A place only for bums.
I pray to God to take me away
And leave me not in the slums to decay.
I am so very poor,
My shack has not even a door.
Instead of books and things to read,
My body aches from working: doing deeds
For my master who has a stronghold on me.
He doesn’t see that I am sore;
He wants only to apply my energy;
He doesn’t look down to my core.
And I pray again to God to take me away,
To take me to heaven and let me stay;
And I will sing a melody,
Praying only for my master to truly see
That I am a human being– a person so poor.
Do not take advantage of me,
Do not make my body sore.
I am someone worthy of truth
Despite my innocence, despite my youth.
~Cathy Lynch