The senseless trips to the hospital at odd hours, the constant exposure to traumas, pregnant with permanent scarring.
The innumerable incidents of psychological discourtesy, the countless times I've mopped a floor painted with excretion from a drug detox.
The colorful bandages from failed suicide attempts, the desperate cries for help that never reached a single ear, a dabble with twisted religion, Public displays of my acquaintance with the devil.
My despair hidden in plain sight. A corpse waiting to be dignified with an obituary embellished in lies.
It took a respirator to convince the world to listen. There are doubts about the sufficiency of the volume.
©nkosi
N