You are made of porcelain. With every scream
you almost shatter, with every beating you almost break.
You are fragile, you are frangible, but you are human.
They strive to undermine this sentiment. They aspire to make
Your life a dehumanizing existence veiled in pain
And suffering. You are living, but you are not alive.
You see an old man desperately clinging to life,
Tip Toeing along the brink of death. He lets out no scream
Or cry, but rather greets death as an old friend, realizing his pain
Will soon be over. He has been granted a break
From his interminable suffering, making
Death amicable. Unlike the soldiers, Death handles him humanely.
You see delicate humanity
Weeping over bodies completely void of life.
You stand in a haze of horror, watching mass graves being made,
Watching in silence as the soldiers scream
To dig faster. Watching as sickly workers beg for a break,
Eyes glazed over with both envy and pain.
You see a woman writhing as a look of pain
Runs across her face. She feels no longer human,
But rather like a product as she watches permanent ink break
The surface of her skin. She will be marked for life
by a string of blue ink numbers. Her pleading screams
Proliferate as the numerical tattoo is made.
You see a small boy grimacing as he tries to make
The growing feeling of hunger and pain
Go away. He lets out a diluted scream
As he witnesses the devastation of humanity,
He is starved of both food and virtue. Sin lives
In his eyes; his delicate relationship with innocence broken.
You see a shining silver bullet break
From the barrel of a gun. You watch the gunshot make
Its way through the air, watch as the life
Drains from a man’s face. He lets out one final cry of pain
Before he crumples to the ground lifelessly, no longer human.
He lets out no more cries or screams.
You are made of porcelain, but you will not break.
Despite the soul shattering screams, despite the pain,
You remain alive. You are human.