She Will Die

The child's clenched eyes open at dawn,
Through her bruised lips she manages to yawn,
Her eyes shift through the dark room,
And fall upon her masters broom,
Her frail body shivers at the sight,
As she recalls his anger last night,
Her hair she ties, as her tears she wipes,
Back to work she must go,
In the dark room below,
Her fingers she must work to the bone,
As makes sculptures from stone,
In the heat she shall lie,
Until the day she will die.