I live on a sliver of bed
in the corner of a dark and dirty room
I lie there and my body aches because I am too diseased in my mind to go to the bathroom or take my medicine
so I shake and I cry and I smother myself in blankets until I sweat
and my mind wakes and I push it back in to a dreamworld that makes my pulse race
I wake shaking
I am punishing myself for being no good
for being so selfish
who am I to feel bad when there are young girls in Haiti who have recently lost all of their loved ones
and they live in a tent in a tent town with no running water and escaped convicts raping them at night?
They have no hope and yet they wake in the morning and do what they have to do to survive
I feel sick inside at what I know.
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