Tied

Your hands behind your back,
Tied tightly with a rope.
Your sitting on a cold, stone floor,
Wondering how you'll cope.

You try to loosen the rope a bit,
But your hands get covered in blood.
You stand, panting against the wall,
Then fall down with a thud.

You're helpless, laying forlorn,
You can only weep and wait.
You see the moon through the window,
You can see it's getting late.

You can hear the family above,
They don't even know you're there.
If you yell, you'll get a beating,
But it really isn't rare.

Your body is bruised and dirty,
Dust is filling your body.
Your weak, ill and dizzy,
Your clothes are far from gaudy.

No sign of hope in the future,
The rest of your days spent here.
And soon, you're dead body,
Will be found by a resident near.