When the stroke lands aiming to take away one's strength but adds more motion to the hands on the plough instead ..Hands dragging feet, feet dragging hands and the chain goes on like a caged bird with clipped wings and tied feets..now all they are left with is their voice…just like the caged bird they open their mouth to sing, sing the songs of freedom, which will always be rewarded by lashes landing on their backs…but they continue to push through with only hope left in them…Hope of a better tomorrow, reliving everyday over again…same pain ,same rain , same scorching sun and same beloved screams…Ears filled with the sound of digging, shoveling and whips with the same color of red and black stuck on every skin…All enduring for the hope of freedom which will one day come.