Poetry

Once taken

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I don’t have a spine

How do I walk?

It’s missing

I know it

I’m empty

My body becomes limp

Legs buckle

I begin to stumble

I don’t have a backbone

How do I stand?

He took it

I know it

He took it over time

I shrink

My head lags

Drops forward

It hangs

Vertebrae detaches

How do I speak?

A silenced voice

I think

I am a pile

A heap of muscle and bone

Unpurposed, unseen

I drag along the dust, the dirt

I drag along this road alone

until I pause

until I stop

until I cannot move

I call out with mute tongue

I reach out with flaccid arms

I struggle with my lifeless body

How long the struggle?

I’m tired. Too tired.

How long the endless plight?

Then, the decree to survive

It has to be

So

I drag along the dust, the dirt

I drag along this road alone

until I pause

until I stop

until I cannot move

All that is left is a pile

A heap of muscle and bone

Unpurposed

Unknown

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