What is this? This, that forces me to be weak. Forces me to allow you to walk all over me and yet I grin, and knowingly bear it.
What is this? This, that rips my identity from my hands and causes me to willingly give it over to you with hardly a second thought.
What is this? This, that comforts me as your deceit tears through my self esteem.
What is this? This, that with overwhelming assurance allows me to lie still as you use and abuse my body and my virtue.
What is this? This, that takes my strength, strength that once birthed nations and turns it into helplessness.
Your name, I’m told, is loneliness.