by Jardonn Smith
I am in pain. I look through up and down metal bars, metal bars built into cutout of wood door. I look down to the man snoring in his cell. His undergarment white, some kind of fabric, the kind his people call shorts, cover him low on his waist stopping at the top part of his legs. His other clothes have been taken from him, and he sleeps because he has suffered many punishments for many hours. I am in pain because I watched him suffer. Worse, I helped them to make him suffer.