I could still move my fingers,

It was the only sign that the restraints weren’t cutting off my blood flow,

The guards made sure to make them tighter after the last time,

The leather straps dug into my skin, branding my flesh,

Their tightness felt intrusive, foreign

But I knew I’d get used to it soon,

After an hour, I would barely notice them

In two hours, they would be the only things holding me back,


I couldn’t remember what I did the last time the straps failed,

I only heard from other people,

Fearfully, angrily telling me what I had done to their cattle, their pets, their loved ones,

I didn’t believe anyone the first time,

So I volunteered for my current situation,

Putting myself in a position to end the fear and anger,


I couldn’t deny what happened the second time,

It was preserved on film and nearly proved to be my death sentence,

There were no torches and pitchforks, but there were fists, knives and guns,

To keep my life, I had to lose my freedom,


Experiments, torture, whatever they deemed necessary to understand my curse,

Sometimes I wonder if it is worth living this way,

I was no longer a man to them, I wasn’t even an animal, I was an abomination,

A sign of something wrong, unholy, unwanted

I couldn’t help but wonder what they really wanted from me,

Why keep me alive?

Unless there was something about me they deemed necessary, or maybe even useful.