Stolen

I hang half-dead on a wall,
displayed and gagged with fear,
I am mute,
the vise tightening against my throat,
fingertips litter the crime scene.

My body was once a temple,
before you entered with your servants,
and ransacked all that belonged to me.

You left me chained to concrete,
my insides broken,
and my voice on mute.


Check out my book, The Four Stages of Poetry, now available on amazon.

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