The light of stars burns bright through splintered wood
As shoeless feet reach down to touch the floor
While jostled to and fro towards the rain.
The whistles sound and guards herd those misplaced.
The stripes of those behind and those ahead
Are all I see as mobs of people move
As though they were the grains in seas of sand.
Though life outside the gates of course remains,
All here feel like they are the last ones left
As cold has pierced the skin for days on end
And food is but a distant dream in bed.
As all the feet at once come to a halt,
All thoughts are now turned toward the gaps above
Where water not but gas begins to fall.