The Closet

Tucked into the wall

With doors closed protectively

Two wooden guards defending. 

Shielding,

a row of headless prisoners

marching to?

marching from? 

They sag 

and sway in agony.

pressed together

limp.

Some hang crookedly

warped

by 

depression.

Oppression.

Captives

crucified

on a 

clothes hanger.

i hav no idea wat i was thinking wen i wrote this.. im a district poetry contest veteran, and this got me my first humiliating second place.  jk. I'd post more, but im having technical difficulties.  more to come!