Walking like a fragile child, an invisible armour wounds me. Remote from my own being, I catch a crumb of splintered love carrying the burden of a betrayal, a living crime, the lie of a society. I have been branded with the red hot iron of powerlessness. Guilty from my own fault, I have become pain. Yet, many years have gone by in silence and confusion. The child cries in my heart, with tears soft and warm, swathing my body.