This one's called "Waiting Inside."
I protest my isolation but protest is a mark of my defeat.
Even as I write, being a victim, I am an accuser.
Being human, others feel my fallen weight
upon their thoughts and are oppressed
as I am, their guilt unlike mine and unrelated
and without hope in it of change for me.
Guilty, my oppressor and I--
that's my oppressor there.
I'll start again, all over again.
That's cute, where did it come from?
Maybe I ought to have it over here and hold on it.
I protest my isolation but protest is a mark of my defeat.
Even as I write, being a victim, I am an accuser.
Being human, others feel my fallen weight
upon their thoughts and are oppressed
as I am, their guilt unlike mine an unrelated
and without hope in it of change for me.
Guilty, my oppressor and I go separate ways
though we could relieve each other by going together,
as Whitman wrote, with our arms around each other's waists
and support.