.

Blank stares, eyes without depth,
sound without ears, death is near.
In graves unmarked they question why.
On streets of home, left to die.
Not attended, just collected.
Counted, then disposed, never
Identified. Someone knows,
no one cares. Assigned a number,
boxed and shipped. A grave of
numbers, without names. Covered
with dirt, no flowers, no stone
no name just an eternal number.