The Show Must Go On

The whip cracks down upon fresh blood
He still bears the scars from last night's show
Another tally on his hide, to count the days
Wasted in captivity

A scalding burn, a lightning sting
Another war wound for the warrior
Yells from the crowd, mocking roars of laughter
Drown out his screams

His pride has long diminished
His dignity long demised
Heart beats no emotion, no more tears
Shall fall from his heavy eyes

Matted mane; blood stained paws
Product of entertainment, man's money-maker
A hollow vessel of what he once was
Freedom long forgotten, no hope befalls
Dying alone, no friend by his side
Just the dark empty shadows of his cold cell walls.