Cruising Alone

How often are we labelled as victims by those who never truly understand our struggles? This poem is a response to the ones who dismiss our pain, wear false masks of care, and think they can break us. It's a declaration of resilience, showing that every wound only strengthens our voice. You call me a victim, wear pity like a cloak, As if my scars are a story you wrote. Yes, I’ve been wounded, but I’m not weak— Each cut, each tear, made my voice speak. You claim to be a "good guy," parading your lies, But I see through the hollow in your eyes. You play with innocence, mock my pain, Buying toys, taunting, thinking it's a game. "Why haven’t you seen the world of lust?" I navigate shadows; you feed on mistrust. You measure love by the bodies you break, While I rebuild from the ruins you make. You say I don’t know love? Maybe you’re right— I’ve fought to survive, clawing through the night. But you, draped in deception, claim to care, Then chase fleeting warmth in...