exploitations

What do you do when you are aware of every exploitation that has made you what you are? Every little pair of hands that made your clothes, every smog belching factory that gave you your plastics, every life that was lost for your indulgences. Countless lives wasted on a label. Species made extinct for your art deco house. Every joy we have is because of another's inconsolable sorrow. Deep down, I hate my festering core. I hate myself for everything that I am, and you should to.