The curated scapegoat

An innocent, naive, eager, seeking relevance, yet not strong enough to know they are a pawn in a much larger game, is chosen with cruel care.

I have been that person, more than once. My eyes bright with a promise based on the exploitation of my naivete.

When we wake from the glittering illusion, it is often because we have been abused so much that we are shells of ourselves, hollowed out by meanness and blatant exploitation.

The trauma is real.

Here is the place, our shattered identity and broken dreams, the detritus of possibility, where we can either gather the pieces of us and grow back stronger or disappear into some grey half-life for eternity.

Corrupting power chooses lambs to the slaughter. The curated scapegoat.

As someone who has been to the bottom of that ink-black pit and crawled out using sheer will and determination, I fight for those you have not yet seen they are victims of abuse. Or those who have woken and are desperately seeking to pull the shattered threads of their being back together.

Those who have lived through this experience of exploitation and now have clear sight are a force to be reckoned with.

Let us gather together and roar.

Photo Taken August 17th 2022

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