cursed

 My hands are behind my back and over my head
I have no gun.  I have dropped my sword
Do with me what you will.  Accuse me.  Condemn me.  Throw me aside forever.
Nobody will care.  Nobody ever has.  

I have tried to reason with.  I have tried to contend with.  I have used my pen as a sword, and I have even used my tongue as such, in lieu of friends or allies to commiserate with.  My lack of ability to forgive is exposed.  I have made myself a target for attempting to gain sympathy, for not settling into condemnation, for hoping to be accepted and loved.

I wish I were dead.  I wish I were never born.  Someone, maybe many, have been blessed by my hands and speech.  I am cursed.