A Cripple

A normal day. A crippled dog. Limping its way around the bushes. Dragging its burden. Inch by Inch. Repulsively similar to a man transmogrified by a redundant limb. Surging Pity. Pity not empathy. Speaks more of my innate darkness than of the victims of my heartless disdain. 

But he looks. Right at me. The cripple looks at me. Right at me. Did he sense my revolt that came before the pity?. I see. I see now.  My dark corners. His too. The naked me inside my head. It doesnt matter. How I see him, how he sees me. Nothing matters. The truth is bared. 

Yes. Revolting but fascinating. Silent Revelations. Shame. Regret. Atonement. Return of the self. And then all your defenses. There she comes. Pity again. So easy now. The distance. Your weapon returned to you in a moment. A blink of an eye. Forgotten. Those darkened corners. Loss. Gain. Loss. Gain. Again and again. Wait. Wait. Who is the cripple. Me or him?