The Eye of Accusation (a poem)

I’m ill
Fed on repeat, with talk
Starved of weight and weak from complaining.
If I could be another state of being
I would turn to muscle
That could eat itself.
I’m plagued
Afflicted by neglect in public
Cursed by routine and calendars of chasing.
If I could be another hero of lying
I would agree to notions
That could disturb themselves.
I’m apathetic
Masked with company, not matter
Socialised by days and stained with lettering.
If I could be another flesh for rotting
I would switch to human
That could destroy everything.

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