AM

It is 2.00 am, and I am awake.

I am occupied with thoughts of Stigma.

§

It is like a nightmare to open my eyes to such a story.

§

Few believe me.  I believe me and so do my abusers.

But it is as though we are in a secret club.

No-one else knows or cares that this is happening.

§

We move amongst them, myself and my abusers.  I stare, and my bullies smirk, and no-one even turns their head.

§

I wish I had lived my life without stigma.  I wish my illness did not attract such attention.

I wish I could let it all go, close my eyes and go to sleep.

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