What is it like to be a freak of unnature, a thing that should not exist?

Let us think about a world of human beings. Not our ones, dulled by injection, tarred by poison, living in a world of fumes inhaled into our lungs. But ones living without this infliction.

Among those people there would not be a single one like me.

Not a single one

with the awkward gait, not standing up straight, with the left foot arched

with the flickering eyes that give her away, every time

with the twisting hair in wonky braids to calm the twirling hands

with the inability to bear the noise, noise, noise throbbing through her skull

with a virginity tarnished only by needles

with a gap where the nets of connection should be

with the worth dragged out, pulled taut, cut off –

I fight for my abolition.

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