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it must be nice. (or: why i don't write much about my past) (Other) by kthulah
to hear with horror others' histories
to have to work to muster sympathies
to imagine what it feels like instead of knowing
to feel a shock as if it is mindblowing
to fear that it could happen to you someday
to buy hope in a can of pepper spray
it must be nice
to know that someone gives a damn for you
to write as if they care what you've been through
to blast your pain to unsuspecting eyes
to answer at least retroactively your cries
to have them "poor girl" you and not "butch up"
to drink from the feminist communion cup
it must be nice
but some of us don't get to be depressed
we live or die ecstatic or distressed
with no one but each other to lean on
for others think we're born to shit upon
the strong survive the weak just fall and rot
wandering in the streets or just forgot
so count your blessings for at least your curse
if not relieved so timely could be worse
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