The Season of Violations I first feel the biting cold sinking its fangs into my soft supple flesh. Tearing at the meat it hits bone, and sinks further. aAn electric shock that would have knocked me on my knees - if I were not already there- wounded deeply by betrayal. The hole they threw me in is so dark - it was not for my colourful coat that they condemned me- but for my young flesh, youthful blood. Stones have been thrown down at me with no space to dodge them I take them inside of me forming nuggets of rot hate and decay. For a moment I had seen a thread of light, but it was snatched away from me my violations left to fester for some time longer. Seasons come and seasons go or do they go and come? I do not know. My limbs refuse to move to be tempted by the winds of change, by possibilities. But could it be the season must end? I must be restored, and one day soon I must and will snatch back my true self, and wield this jaw of defeat as my weapon of victory.