the music did nothing
except send veins of pallid tears
down ashen cheeks that had forgotten
how to smile.
dust stole into our lungs
with spindly fingers
creeping like the gas,
killing like the furnaces it
escaped from.
i saw broken people standing
dead on their feet,
arms outstretched,
unaccustomed to the deep cavity in their chest
that their children used to fill.
there were no surprises in this life
except spare beds
that were quickly filled and emptied again
as often as bruises replaced by
faceless men patrolling past.
God was watching,
God was looking,
God was not seeing.
and still we were silent.