Poetry: In Which I Don’t Care What You Would Have Done

Why do we think

We can quantify pain

Or suffering?

 

Who do we think we are

To decide how anyone else—

Other than ourselves—

Should react to the horrors we experience?

Before, during, or after—

(All three, places your opinion is irrelevant.)

 

How dare we reduce trauma

To a checklist of symptoms?

As if what You Would Have Done

Means anything to someone else.

 

Why do victims have to fight

Just to wear the cursed name?

 

Why then does the label

“Victim”

So easily become

A badge of dishonor:

Stolen from the perpetrator

And forcibly attached

To their victim?

 

As if they haven’t suffered enough already.

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