| «Who are you?»
|
| «I am what you desire.»
|
| «I have been damaged. |
| Damaged people are dangerous. |
| Survival makes them so.
|
| They have no pity. |
| They know that others can survive as they do.»
|
| The Damaged People
|
| «Sleep… a kind of death, perhaps?»
|
| Like a man, alone, sitting on the bench
|
| Invisible to us all
|
| Like the village idiot who made us laugh
|
| Until he raped a girl behind the bike shed
|
| Like the 8-year-old boy walking to the park
|
| To find his mom because the fridge is empty
|
| Again
|
| The Damaged People
|
| Like the dead man on the second floor
|
| No one noticed he was gone until the smell came
|
| Like the woman at the station going through the trash
|
| While we try our best to ignore her
|
| Like the Russian girl who was promised good work
|
| But the only job she was forced to do
|
| Was to fuck you for money
|
| The Damaged People
|
| Like the woman selling her body each day
|
| To get the heroin her body needs
|
| Like the little girl ripped from her family
|
| Because her daddy sold pictures of her
|
| Like the dying man fighting for his life
|
| Trying to win just another (?)
|
| Like the gay teenager killing himself
|
| Because his parents told him what the world does to faggots
|
| Like the world leaders getting high on power
|
| I wonder if they really give a damn
|
| About the millions of people running from a war
|
| A war they never asked for
|
| «Who are you?»
|
| «I am what you desire.»
|
| «I have been damaged. |
| Damaged people are dangerous.»
|
| The Damaged People |