Self-Abused?

A day like any other
But lived as a series of minute tragedies…
The sum greater than any single  part
Yet I demand of myself to know…
Yes I demand to know why!
By what right were these existential
Horrors visited upon me?!
What of this conspiracy of karma?
Fearsome, naive, being--pitifully  unknowing of my deservedness.
What sick joke of gods destined this to me?
Where great illness and poverty did not suffice,
These tiny tortures pick at the  soul,
Leaving invisible scars of repeated abuse.
Scars others will no doubt call self-abuse.
Ha!

After Day After Day

I, so worthless and full of hate
Did stare in an angry mirror
And recite a list of my mistakes.

Mistakes easily found with haste
Like toys half-buried in wet sand
Where I found failure's salty taste.

I, robbed of purpose or useful life
Sat a while in sun-bleached hate
And simply raged to a silent sky.

I, so worthless and full of hate
Too cowardly to walk away...
And performed the ritual day after day.