My Body Is A Tomb

I seal my eyes tight,

I let my mouth be mortared shut to stifle the scream from escaping,

I try to close every hole, door, window, and orifice to my body,

My body becomes a tomb,

A mausoleum,

To protect me from within and without,

My body is a crypt,

Full of dead things,

My body is a shrine,

Representing what was once living,

The thousand injuries I bore as best I could,

Before I took it upon myself to lock my body away,

To hide from the pillaging that occurred,

Truth be told,

My body was a tomb before it was made one,

To the pillagers and plunderers,

I was already dead,

So it made sense to strip me of my worth,

The paradox is I am very much alive,

A constant witness to my own demise,

A constant orchestrator in my own silencing,

I no longer have access of parts of me once writhing,

Every brick has been laid,

I don't remember a time when there wasn't a wall,

I don't remember a time before I was a mausoleum,

I have been sealed shut,

I am buried alive