a deformed cow walks
on dharamsala streets and
i try to accept

A wound reopens when you least expect it
Be it through running
Being clumsy
Or though repeating a simple mistake
Should my lack of intelligence
Be a punishable crime?
Was my trusting nature just not meant for existing?
I realize through your glazed stare
You lack remorse.
Being alone was a terrifying choice,
Perhaps I should have harden the shell.
The shell has far to many cracks that fail to mend properly.
Deformity should be eradicated

I was changed.
Altered by your words.
Forever deformed...
Never to be recognized.
No longer me.
But scraps of what I used to be.
Your words were knives.
And they slit me.
Ripped me.
Don't you see;
the effect of the words you speak?
Now, may I please
R.I.P.