Dave Bonta's "Thought crime" is made entirely of questions, though none carries a question mark. The speaker asks who did the first damage to thought itself, and the phrasing is blunt: "mortally wounded" makes thinking sound like a living creature that can be hurt, even killed.
The second stanza narrows the focus. Someone hurt words but left the body alone, which suggests a harm that is invisible and has no bruise to show for it. The title hints at a world where thinking can be treated as a crime, though the poem never says so directly. That is my reading, not something it states.
The last lines turn personal and sad. Someone "had a mind to turn / love to doubt," a phrase that plays on having a mind and having an intention. The speaker seems to feel loss and a quiet anger, wanting to name a culprit without finding one. The mood is bare, unsettled and accusing, and its brevity leaves the questions hanging.