The man who owns the world

I am the destruction that plagues men,

the horror of rape, terror, and torture.

I sew all the broken parts of me

into walking, talking, smiling rag dolls—

million tatters of personality

stitched with the thread of love

and the needle of pain.

What do I do, oh Lord?

For the needle that I have poked myself with

is the needle that pokes thee in vain?

Oh Shambo, do not destroy me.

Do not force me

to accept responsibility

for the limitless pain

that you have to bear.

For I cannot begin to understand true love nor true pain.

I know not how to contain it,

for my heart is not enough.

I know not how to contain it,

for long enough for me to be thee.

But I have stopped eating!

Oh Lord, I have stopped eating!

I have stopped eating!

In repentance!

In repentance

for everything that I have touched.

In repentance

for every one of my breaths!

For everything that I have said!

For every single hurt that I have caused.

I bear every single tear that ever was.

I bear every single drop of tear shed—

shed by every single man, woman, and child,

from the beginning of eternity

up until the time when there could never was none.

I bear this cross, and so I hang!

I hang on my breath,

waiting for death.

Who passes there?

Hang on, stranger.

I do not know if you will ever understand.

Can your soul really bear the pain?

The pain of a billion cuts?

Is this not the price to pay for existing on this wretched earth?

Is it not my responsibility?

The pain of my billions?

Could I live on as if I ever was?

Live on when nothing could be never was?