The Camp

April 4, 2009
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The Camp

When I hear the birds sing
I wonder where they come from.
These walls, grey and bleak,
Shelter me from what I seek.
No more will the colors shine
No more do I feel alive.
I’m stuck within these walls,
Afraid to feel at all.

The soldiers come
The soldiers go.

I am stuck within moving walls
No longer able to hear the birds call.
The colors stay gone,
As does the breath from the ones I love.
We do not stop
We will not stop.
I can not breathe.
I can not see.
These walls shelter me.

I go in.
I do not come out.

There are new walls,
Though there is no ease.
I’m afraid they will put
Me where the smoke breathes.
I can not stand the labor here
It feels as though I will tear.
My body grows weak,
My mind goes numb.
Yet, he still stands strong.

The soldiers come.
The soldiers go.

He begins to falter,
Fading faster.

Soldiers come,
Soldiers go.

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