"they're painting the passports brown"

i heard someone yell

"at least that's how it looks

as far as i can tell"

trapped like rats

in a room, for hours on end

we wait for our turn

to the room that they send

one by one, taken away

hopeful for an end to the wait

while the rest of us sit

desperate for an uncertain fate

just a few ahead of me

now, my time will be near

while others wait in silence

pain, desperation and fear

i see another officer emerge

with a basket, passport, flood

they are not painting the passports brown

they are soaking them in our blood