At Noon

It happens every day at noon.
We gather in that stone cold room.
That rubbish song plays on repeat,
and the headshrinkers leave us soup to eat.
It all seems so calm,
until someone turns off the song.
Everyone who was there that day
watches the guards carry them away.
Copyright © | Year Posted 2015

Poem

Post Comments

Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.

Please Login to post a comment

Be the first to comment on this poem. Encourage this poet.

Get a Premium Membership
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a Premium Membership.
Book: Diverse Voices: The Poetry of Human Rights and the Pursuit of Peace