My wrists are bound
With an old plastic
Rope,
You're dragging me along
The stoney earth.

My hair is a tangle
Of dead branches
And tall grass.

My arms and legs,
Are cut and scraped
From the dry ground.

My mouth and nose,
Are full of the dusty earth,
And I can't breathe anymore.

My clothes are torn,
My lips cracked
From the unforgiving sun,
My wrists are bleeding.

I don't know whether to struggle
Or lay down,
As you wrench me
Farther,
And
Farther,
From who I am.