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Poem

The life that we live,”
is so full of sorrow.
With the hope of a better day,
with each new tomorrow.
Cut off from the world,
living with the shame.
Known as a number,
not even a name.
We put up a front,
so no-one will know.
That deep down inside,
its hurting us so.
The empty promises we get,
from family and friends.
Let us know that the pain,
just never ends.
They say that a visit,
is what they plan to do.
Not realizing our pain,
when they don’t come through.
They always seem to plan,
to do what they say.
But something always happens,
to get in the way.
We harden our hearts,
to not feel the pain.
They try to break through,
but they try in vain.
We dress all in orange,
each day of the year.
We push everyone away,
letting no-one get near.
Yes it is true,
we have no bills to pay.
But the jobs that we have,
pay mere pennies a day.
The change that makes up,
our hourly wage.
For the jobs that we do,
it fills us with rage.
The prices seem low,
compared to the street.
But in here it’s a struggle,
just to make ends meet.
We walk in a line,
like ducks in a row.
We stay locked inside,
with no-where to go.
We long to go to work,
to get out of the dorm.
We dream of having a life,
some semblance of the norm.
But in this hell,
we must stay.
And deal with the pain,
each and every day.

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