We are being held
inside a prison
within our selves
Silent and seething
with despair and rage
Silenced by whom, we ask
By what Censor
what Keeper of Secrets
Is this how they will
make us go mad, we wonder
By making our blood boil
as our mind goes empty
So that we cannot write our story
on the walls
The head hurts
above the right eye
They planted something there
to record the pain
They send it, discuss it
our pain
They own us
compartmentalized,
filed and regimented
We are their cities
designed by them,
with no exits
Our streets with names like
Thorn and Slasher
Edge and Roadkill
Guards like
Blank and Sleeper
manning the gates
But we remember. . .
Buildings in the cities
Rooms in the buildings.
Men in the rooms
Doctoring men
who lied to us
used us
who violated our flesh
and our minds
We are the fabrications
of their insane science.
Wrapped tight inside
their web of lies
We can only escape our bondage
by finding our truth
Recognizing the faces of those
who stole our lives
Hearing their voices again
Being at their mercy
And then. . .
Standing over them.
in all their horror
Passing sentence on them
Finding them guilty
of the irreprehensible
violation of innocence
Our voices ringing loud
Cutting through the wire
and piercing the metal
of the machines
they used
to enslave us.
Smashing to oblivion
those insidious names
and codes
they used
to entrance us
Truth can reclaim
our tortured selves.
It can lift us from the pit
of having forgotten who we are
and of having been forgotten
Inside this prison they made
for us---
their dissociated
prisoners of war.
MarleneAzoulai