Ode to the Victim

A Sudra to their kind; a slave

Held down by cheap, rusting chains.

They've endured the dark of a thousand caves

But still their hope remains.

Whipped and hit until they bled

Yet they remain untouched

The victim deserves our finest praise

For they ignore the dread

Their sanity remains tightly clutched

Thus, the victim will see better days.

Author's Note

I've never written an ode before, so please notify me of anything I can do to improve!