Scantily clad in a veil of irony

I walk through a forest of indifference and solitude

I stumble and fall.

Each time it happens, the pain only amplifies

There’s no healing salve available

Just a compounding ache lightly soothed by the smell of pine

Slowly, I feel my emotions detach

Useless monitors of the past

Hopefully, they don’t come back

Abstraction sets in

My condition is fragility, repression, and desolation

My history is rape, ridicule, and exploitation

My people are dead. Through a combination of violence and ignorance

This forest may be hell

A green farce to cover up the red and black looming in the background

The smell of fire lingers in the periphery

The veil is tearing. Irony and humor are no longer enough. I don’t know if anything will ever be enough