The pains of the past, the harrowing thoughts of the unknown.
O, but to think back to my homeland, that blessed sunshine, compared to the black, dreaded night under the sea; the solid orange-green ground with the beautiful sunshine on my face, as to the dark, mirky underworlds of a ship. Upon my stool that bent me near, with hundreds of pants and screams and tears; So as till the unknown we sail, and my heart beats out for bounds. The ground creaks and groans, as we moan for our homeland far from shore. The little time we spent on deck, wreathed in anguish painful sigh, as our captors broke our backs with flailing whips that cracked above our thighs. Oh where is our destined misfortune to be? To what avail for our suffering must ends meet? On that distant day in which the ship opens doors, and we are greeted with the marvelous sun upon that shore; What short-lived happiness that greeted thee and me, was our painful experience yet to be. But as for now as we wept and sigh, and cry out on High, yet a little voice tells us not to wheep; But to save our tears for the dying light. For as it brings the next morn of painful things, behold...
...Our pain has just begun.
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