I must repair, I must rebuild even that of which I despise for it is who suffers at its peril

It is know that I cannot salvage the inequities of all and still I am scourged by all for failure

My flesh becomes leather to bear whips of the indignant and frustration becomes the sepulcher where my patience is laid to rot

A shrine of depraved, unwilfully erected by my own shame

This is empathogen that I must digest has no mercy on a mind bescorn, a painful enterprise of self-hate

In perpetuum I am forced to suckle the breast of mother grief lest I starve

The torturer tortures, the sufferer suffers and I am the orphan of these, the bastard child of inquity