Anonymous
There’s a hole in my stomach.
I don’t remember how it got there. It grows bigger with every step I take.
No one asks if I’m ok.
No one asks how it got there.
They just keep walking.
Sometimes I wonder if I did something to deserve this.
If they ignore me out of fear or spite. I grow more tired and angry as the days go by, asking anyone, someone, to help me.
But they just keep on walking.
There’s a hole in my stomach. It’s taken over most of my torso and drips down into my waist.
It’s no longer the people that anger me, it’s the hole.
As I walk amongst these people, in pain and agony, I can’t help but wonder what happened to me.
I feel a tap on my shoulder and swing my hand back around.
I hear a tear and a gushing sound.
There’s a hole in my stomach. It grows with every step. But now I know how it got there.