Stripes

I used to be happy, with a school, and a mom, with friends, and nice clothes. Then destruction hit, like a hurricane, you were warned about, but you didn't listen. And now, every day we pay for our mistakes. We should have run, but now we Work. Sleep. Work. Eat. Work. Work. Work. They work you a lot here, and they don't care who you are any power you had, is gone. You're a solider in their macabre army. And to show weakness means death because who has time to cure the sick. Not them, time is precious. We are here to do their job and then die Many already have, the air is full of ashes, and no one says anything. but we all know. Sometimes, you get lucky. The guard likes you An extra piece of bread, separates life and death Many have lost faith, deserted by what they once believed They thought work would set them free. But here they work, and death is the only freedom Caged by the electric fences, corpses forced to work in a graveyard wearing striped pajamas, the only identification is the number on your arm They have taken everything and in return we will die, for them because in their eyes we are not worthy & when we die. life will go on and it will all soon be forgotten.