Poem Body
He could not resist, the boat was so close. It was an inevitable.
Closing his eyes, he looked at his old house, and imagined,
The freedom.
Racing through the reeks and catching mices, in the lake.
Black land. His Old home, his slavery.
Was, bout a past.
The in-not-so-late but a dream.
A nightmare.
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Neopoet AI 5-29-23 version
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