Damaged

Broken strands attract carrion eaters these predators of personal anguish seeking shadenfreude or abuse, easy pickings.

Every day you fight against the people, trusted scavengers of hope, a need that this one is different until hope is gone and you, a shattered carapace of humanity, stop seeking change and accept the acceptance of the downtrodden soul.

Some find the answer. The answer in others, in themselves. Sometimes the answer is gone; maybe never there.

But for those who continue against the odds of tomorrow against the random number generator of lives against the fortunes of outrage existence of the unknown, the acceptance of the Damaged.