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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