Death.
You cannot live without death.
Except when you don’t die.
When you see everyone else around you die.
You wish you could.
But you know you can’t.
You are left alone.
Alone to try and survive.
To try and thrive.
Until you are found.
You find a place.
Your people.
Betrayal.
A number in the nine thousands.
That’s what they call me now.
Not by my name.
Not by my first.
Nor by my last.
A number.
A number in the nine thousands.
Life.
This is not living.
Sure, I am alive.
But this is not living.
This is surviving.
I am treated like a prisoner.
Like an animal.
I am not human in their eyes.
They don’t believe I am the same as them.
Freedom.
Freedom is something I will never understand.
Others may not experience it.
The ones that do are lucky.
They will never understand the pain.
The dread.
The sadness.
The fear.
The darkness.
The uncertainty.
Not knowing what tomorrow will bring.
Acceptance.
The outside is locked away.
Never for my eyes.
Never for my mind.
Never for my body.
Never for me to feel.
Never for me to see.
Never for me to smell.
Never for me to understand.
To say that I am okay with it would be a lie.
I understand that I will never see the outside.
I will never smell a flower.
Never to see a field.
Never to see a tower.
Never to see the sky, clouds nor the rain.
Never will I truly be free.
Unrestrained.
Unrestricted.
People breathe.
People live.
People die.
People thrive.
I do not.
I breathe.
I live.
I survive.
You cannot thrive, and survive at the same time.