Stolen Identity

For everyone to have something stolen, be it in part or in whole, let this poem speak the words that were taken from your lips.

You came in the night.

You crept like some common thief.

When I thought I was safe, protected from harm,

You came, and stole from me the one thing that could never be stolen.

I lay unexpecting, tragically careless, and you took advantage.

More than mere money, more than a name; you took who I am, all that I am.

Jewels and diamonds can be bought, cars can be restored,

But nothing can account for what I have lost.

You came, with a blade, and made your incisions.

Piece by piece, you removed my flesh- my skin.

As if it belonged to you, you had me stripped bare,

Tore me to pieces, threw my remains to the wind.

How could you waste all that I was?

How dare you put me down like some runted pig?

You do not steer me; you are not my shepherd.

Your crimes reduce my existence to the lowest manner of comprehension.

But you shall not take the one thing I have left.

My identity is my own, and you cannot have it.