correction by: jason lemmon

Letters from mothers, fathers, partners, children, friend,
Envelopes torn open, inspected, warm regards and well wishes violated.
Together we serve our time with hopes to make amends.
Never again will our world seem innocent.

Offering plates are passed around throughout each day,
Men donating what little pride they've managed to save.
Although many are guilty, although some are not, together we could say:
No man belongs here.

Privacy surrendered, never a second's break.
Uncertainty no longer a concept, but a way of life,
Life at this point stripped to existing for existence's sake.
Labeled with a number and a sin.

Yet we berate each other despite our shared pain,
Owing half our newfound struggles to the men right beside us,
Under a system supporting our fractures for its gain,
Locked up, our attention kept away from the key.

Our lives now restricted to a ship banned from any port,
We further segregate our little remaining space,
Encouraged by the sea that wants no land to hear report:
No man belongs here.

Our vigor within there walls in intertwined,
Ultimately guaranteeing our collective frailty.
Guided by blind self-preservation we find
Hatred circulates between us like blood.

That nobody comes looking for us while we are gone,
Ostensible to men by evidence of unhindered neglect,
Has most of us convinced that we are alone
Among an assemblage of likened captives.

Tearing done faulty framework takes time and efforts,
Even when endorsement for doing so is gallant,
Howbeit without an ally willing to give support,
Inciting rescission of a debased system fails.

Mistakes can be corrected, lessons can be taught.
Mankind, nonetheless, benefits not from isolation and fear.
Land-Ho!, I say, for I have not forgot:
Know compassion, come together, bellow.