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!
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