I saw The Abolitionists last night…

I feel sick.
I know.
I sorrow.
I fear.

Hold them,
protect them.

Knowing drops from my eye.
Sorrow streams.
Fear piercing.

How can they do this?
Why?

Thrown away.
Disposable.
An object.
Used.

Shield?
I can’t find it.
I’m here?
Why must I endure?

I’m so scared.
Save me.
Someone?

See me.
I’m here.
Make me matter.

Cowering…
rocking…
a ball.
Trying to hide within myself…
face, stained.
Shrinking into nothing.

Alone.
I am dead.

Please don’t make me.
My sorrow is eating me.
I cannot escape.

I am nothing.