Amber's spirit wavered- trapped in a cycle of servitude Her body ached- a silent scream against the relentless labor A fleeting moment of defiance- a spark of rebellion in her eyes The weight of her chains felt heavier with each passing moment She swallowed hard- the metallic taste of despair on her tongue Stripped of dignity- she was exposed to their cruel gaze Her cries unheard- lost in the vastness of their cruelty Her innocence was a forgotten memory- replaced by their filth Deep within her- a spark refused to be extinguished The torment continued- a relentless assault on her senses Her spirit- though wounded- refused to be fully caged The bad taste in her mouth- a constant reminder of their power A moment of unexpected freedom- a chance to breathe Her mind replayed the horrors- a never-ending loop of pain The farm life- a prison from which there seemed no escape She would endure- a silent promise in her heart She was a flower in a field of thorns- bruised but not broken The lingering taste of despair- a constant companion A tiny spark of resistance- refusing to be extinguished She would reclaim herself- piece by agonizing piece
Her body ached- a silent scream against the relentless labor
A fleeting moment of defiance- a spark of rebellion in her eyes
The weight of her chains felt heavier with each passing moment
She swallowed hard- the metallic taste of despair on her tongue
Stripped of dignity- she was exposed to their cruel gaze
Her cries unheard- lost in the vastness of their cruelty
Her innocence was a forgotten memory- replaced by their filth
Deep within her- a spark refused to be extinguished
The torment continued- a relentless assault on her senses
Her spirit- though wounded- refused to be fully caged
The bad taste in her mouth- a constant reminder of their power
A moment of unexpected freedom- a chance to breathe
Her mind replayed the horrors- a never-ending loop of pain
The farm life- a prison from which there seemed no escape
She would endure- a silent promise in her heart
She was a flower in a field of thorns- bruised but not broken
The lingering taste of despair- a constant companion
A tiny spark of resistance- refusing to be extinguished
She would reclaim herself- piece by agonizing piece