I have hands , but I can not gesture ,
I have legs , but I can not move away ,
I have eyes , the tears are present ,
but just to cloud my vision…

I have ears , to receive the words ,
the words that play my weak mind,
A mind discarded and been spit at …

My mouth urges to defend, and out comes
a soundless cry of help..

My blood boils with rage , invokes my senses,
helpful it isn’t , but just a mere facilitation
for the reception of more pain…

A thought suicidal is perfectly justified ,
when dignity stripped , an esteem lost ,
reverses the guilt of survival
to scorn your existence…

A handicap oblivious to the rest ,
Rests within me!

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