Truth

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.



c.copyright2005 MarleneAzoulai