Steps - A Poem by Bailey Hill

The thick cords smacked his back and gorged on his naked flesh. Quickly, they were drawn away only to lash out and bite again. Tears welled at the corner of his eyes and his sinewy frame shook with each blow, but he made no sound. He counted in his head the number of times struck; thirty seven, thirty eight, thirty nine, and stop. Blood poured off of his once whole frame and pooled on the steps around him. His lips pursed with silent prayer for his persecutors. After watching this ghastly scene, I slowly put down the whip.