Hateful Riot

callus hands breaking through the glass window of my world forcing many of us into a bag. We are bad books in their eyes. I feel myself rise from the shelves then placed under his arm while the others are dragged in the bag. Away from my beloved store, the human holding me says my title to the leader and I am labeled a sin. the warmth and glow of  the fire licking at my pages as I'm thrown to the ground. My crafted words , my author's thoughts, burned and gone forever.