1139

What would it feel like if you were being brutally tortured and stripped from your identity, and you couldn't even hold on to the most important symbol of individuality: your name?

This is for a spoken word poetry contest.

 

Names.

What are names?

They are treated as

just sounds

strung together

for identification.

But why

Are they so

important?

Why do mothers

spend weeks

and weeks

scrambling through

baby name books

if they are just

syllables

that mean

ultimately

nothing?

Our names

are more than just

a sound

that we respond to

when we hear them.

Our names

are more than just

groups of letters

used to sign

a contract.

Our names are used

to make

each and every

one of us

unique.

Our names are used

to give

each and every

one of us

a sense

of individuality.

All of you

take advantage

of the individuality

that you have,

thanks to your

names.

You don't know

what it feels like

to have your name

stripped

and

thrown

away

like a crumbled piece of paper.

But I do.

They took me to

a place

bombarded

with men in blue

weapons in their hands

and nothing but

cruelty.

They took me to

a place

bombarded

with people locked up

tears streaming down their faces

and nothing but fear.

The officers

immediately

informed me

that I did not

have a name

anymore.

The officers

immediately

informed me

that I would now

be known as

a clump of useless numbers

grouped

in a random order.

The officers slipped me

a piece of paper

with the symbols

that will never leave

my mind.

1139.

 

1139

was the closest thing

that I had

to a name

while I was in there.

1139

was

beaten,

starved,

and almost

killed.

1139

was being held

accountable

against her will

for something

that she

did not do.

1139

was laughed at,

ridiculed by

humiliated

embarrassed

by the monsters

meant to keep "peace".

1139

was no longer

the person

who was known

to love animals

to love sci-fi movies

to love the color blue.

1139

was no longer

the loving,

sweet.

innocent person

that she once was.

1139

did not smile

when the sun rose

to demonstrate life

in the morning.

1139

smiled at the night

because she saw it

as one less day

of her suffering.

1139

was accused of

identity theft.

How ironic

that the people

punishing her

for identity theft were

stealing,

damaging,

destroying

her own identity?

1139
was released
but

she still felt captured.

She felt imprisoned

inside of her own mind.

She would not even

respond

to her old name.

She didn't recognize it.

She felt lonely,

ashamed,

and betrayed.

1139
eventually

devoured her mouth

with a bullet.

All because

she didn't have a name.

 

Reviews

[...]

This is realy something horrified. All these stories make strong atmosphere and feel of aniexity. Your creation have wonderful streaming of dark sides of life. Very creative and very dark .