A cell. An accident. A person who would’ve been miserable anyway. An appointment. A religious order. An expense. A political debate. Anything but a soul. “Why?” I don’t care who fights for my life. I care that they do. They aren’t sure When my life starts, But they tell me when it ends. My body, my rights. Somebody, where’s mine? I wasn’t going to come out As a different thing. So why am I treated Like a different thing? They knew what I’d be,
-Karl Kristian Flores
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