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Behind a Closed Curtain I was in a glass box, Surrounded by about a hundred others Destined to meet a fate Completely different from mine.
While they writhed in pain On the white tiled floor Trapped in their cubicles, I lay there motionless Staring at the ceiling And struggling to tune them all out.
While they moaned and groaned And slowly grew weaker And weaker by the second, I kept quiet And waited for my chance to escape So I could finally go looking for you.
I Was among the living, Those who were destined to soon become The dead.
But really, was their fate so different from my own? After all, We all die eventually.
Maybe we were one in the same Here, Trapped behind the glass Here, Isolated from those who were plague-free.
I could no longer classify these people As living anymore. They didn't act like themselves in here; In fact, they didn't even act Like they were alive at all. How could you, When you were pent up like this, Kept away from those you love?
