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Forty of Cell Ten


Robert came last week.
Saw him Shouting things unfamiliar,
as they dragged his healthy body over.
Calm down Robert,
This place will be your home now.
A home where you feel homesickness,
A home with walls of instabilities.
Unattracted by this principle of home,
Calmness was a distant reality to Robert.
The stale breakfast and lunch was indifferent to him.
The bedbugs embraced him with stories of former inmates.
The garden seemed graveyard to him.
His mouth at times pronounced beautiful female names with drools.

A lone walker along the aisles of the Building,
He looked through the giant gate that never opened.
He talked to the trees that never replied.
He sang of things unheard-of,
He longed for a normal life like the guards.
He who cracked knuckles frequently
has lost his name,
Now he is number forty.
Forty of cell ten.
Forty who came last week.
Forty from?

Forty died yesterday.

Sally came today.
They dragged her over while shouting things unfamiliar.
Next week she would probably
Become Forty of cell ten.
Said the Twenty in chains for thirty years.

A.C

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