I am here.

I never thought, not in a million years,

but a million thoughts will not change the fact that

I am here.

Muted voices echo down the linoleum halls,

doctors and scholars debating theories as to how 

someone like me

wound up


My parents, crippled around the phone,

the rage, the shock, the sorrow

spreading out like ripples across the sea,

building into a tidal wave crescendo.

And all this because

I am here.

The marks around my neck and wrists

are not silent scars.

The End

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