7/3/2018
the stitches in the carpet
the lines on the walls
the lights in the ceiling
the echoes in the halls
black shades over windows
monotony compels
doors that lead to nowhere
but boxes built like cells
inmates file in
row after endless row
have broken minds befallen
neither friend nor foe
what becomes of those
idly who wait
who sit in line and bide their time
who leave it up to fate