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Six Strikes: The Guard and the Prisoner
I walk in
His strutting footsteps wake me
I command them to attention
He demands us to be his puppets
If one steps out of line
If one puts our lives in danger
I must discipline them
He delivers hell
Every prisoner is the same
Inside we suffer differently
The same as the rest of the other 200,000
Just with different stories
They are less then human
We are more than what is seen
I bring one to my feet
He brings me to his feet
My hands tremble as I take out my whip
My body aches from yesterday’s beating
I raise it up
He wants me dead
One strike
I breathe in
Two strikes
A gasp escapes
Three strikes
I scream out for the world to hear
Four strikes
I can barely move
Five strikes
I fall to the floor
Six strikes
My body is numb with pain
I no longer feel pity
I feel empty
She deserved it, I tell myself
I am punished for no reason
I put my whip back in my pocket
His moment of fun is over
Until tomorrow morning
It will begin once more
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