My mind, corroded
by an internal storm,
more fierce than raging sand,
more dampening than a whirling tempest,
more numbing than the biting snow.

My eyes, like dull milky orbs,
faintly reflecting that
which they see,
yet hiding what truly
lies within.

My heart, like half-burnt coal;
its exterior light and warm,
but beneath the fragile shell
lies its true form,
an insensate lump of darkness.

This is me.
This is who I am.
I do not fight it
as this cruel, harsh world
needs people like me.

For without us,
who stare daily into the faces
of anger, loathing and despair,
how would the rest of you
know to appreciate what you have?