Young men flock
Decorate the streets like objects thrown at your feet
Rags covering all identity
Bodies underneath so scared
Once awoken unaware unprepared for the control
Authority to move or just stare
Eyes glazed holding hands up to welcome the gift
A small warm bag cupped into and held close
Fingers wrapped in grip
Stare back with fawning
Movements of mourning
Some never woken, just bones
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