First, They Came for the Others…

By Andrew R. Duckworth

And then they came for us
And we were so drunk
On their wine
We were happy when
The shackles clasped our wrists.
Our foolish laughs echoed
Down the prison halls.
When the wine wore off
Years later,
We had become content
In our cells,
Telling ourselves
“At least here, we’re safe.”