Consumption

In the land of the free, home of the brave
Where one can get almost 6 hours of sleep
I'd sleep, drool dark black mucus, a cough
Anxiety attacks and nightmares of cave-ins
In a mine, the claustrophobic would suffer
Soon, most miners would get a horrid cough
Spat upon the ground, it was black and red
With each new child, I tried for more hours
Not allowed, they didn't care to be humane
Damn cough became constant and deadly
It's called black lung disease, aptly named
My life is nothing, I'll go home still trying
Why can't my children leave for new lives 
Why go to school, instead of their scars
With no chance to leave, school has worth?
Haven't the money for a bus ticket, no car
They'd be illiterate but not of their choices
Generation after another, broken of money
And as adults enter the cycles of poverty
With the business town keeping us poor
Our bodies will be used up in the end
Watching our children do the same
In a life that kills the innocence
Leaving behind consumption
Devoured to keep a system
Enslaving of our children
To be used, consumed

The Photographer of many child coal miners was Lewis Hine
Child Labor laws article