You may call slaves by many names


But calling them inhuman or inferior seems a bit off



Everyone has its own path


There are those that lead and others that are led



Living for another’s satisfaction is a beautiful thing


To be explored, used, abused


To accept losing everything for the benefit of others



To feel content on a naked body dressed in shackles


Holding on to nothing but the desire to serve


To be at that place to fulfill the needs of his Master


Whatever those may be


For as long as He desires



Being humane is to care


And a slave cares for no worldly goods, other than his Master


Not even for himself


Sacrificing everything for that choice of servitude



So how can you call him inhuman


When he shows the best that he will ever be



And even if he stands beneath Your feet


That place is occupied because he chose to


Inferior towards You


But not against all the rest



And as for the Master


The one that cares for nothing other than himself


That beats and tortures for his own pleasure


Is the human or inhuman



Perhaps inhuman


Something closer to a beast


If He only looks with his eyes closed


Ignoring that who stands beneath him



But if you do open them


You will see the heavy load weighting on him, waiting to be taken out


How much his thorns hurt, waiting to be plucked


How much poison runs through his veins, waiting to be bled


How cold he feels, without a set of chains to warm him


How thirsty he is, without something to drink



How can one look and not act


When no one else has the strength to do it


When no one else has the will to do it


When there is no one else for him


And no one else that he wants to ease his torment but You



How can you call yourself humane


When he is there


For You


And You leave him to suffer all alone



How can you call yourself inhumane


When you are willing to spend your time


Making him feel human


Giving him something to fight for


Something to cherish


Something to keep