Confined

I could tell the kids felt trapped
In the confinement of their shame,
Their disabilities form
Concrete walls,
With barbed wire
Twisted cruelly at the top.

They called the school a prison,
But the room denied the claim,
Decorated with the posters and pictures
Made by hands gripped tight with anger
Or fear.

No, I can see it in their hearts;
It’s not the school that is a prison,
But the chains of their own weaknesses,
And the wounds of a broken heart.

The world has cast them off as failures;
No longer are they viewed as humans,
But the refuse of society.
They could not fit into the scheme;
Their brokenness denied the pattern
And so they were tossed off the assembly line,
The defective outcasts
Of the perfect machine.

Now what do they have left?
A profuse knowledge of obscenity?
An anger which acts like acid,
Eating at everyone around?
The fears of a hopeless heart
Trapped inside a prison?

But still the room denies the claim,
Decorated with the posters and pictures
Made by hearts that long for love,
Creative hearts that sparkle faintly
Like gems
Which wait inside the rock.