Defiled Poem by Annica Danielson

Your body is a sanctuary
A renaissance-esque statuary
Crafted with detailed precision
The product of celestial vision
A private space for self-communion
Where soul and flesh have their reunion
Sacred by its very essence
Grace in its ethereal presence

But like the merchants in Bethphage
Even temples can be defiled
Though oft through no fault of their own
For men are ravenous and wild
Would that you could set up traps
And catch the villains in a snare
But though secure, you may still find
You no longer feel comfort there