Discipline

Every day they march in rows like crops
Harvested for more welts and blisters on their arms and legs
The naughty boys and girls march endlessly
In ugly grey rags and caps off to make shoes
They march past grey buildings of misery
The sun never shone on the children of naughtiness
Enduring the blinding pain
A smile never touching their lips
They knew
Deep down they knew they would never get rescued
And they would never heal