I am.
Neither my father nor my mother, but of both.
I am small
But like my brothers, I am my own.

I grow.
It’s a race against the clock, and I was made eager to grow.
I am alive
And like others in my race, taste human rights.

I dream.
Not in thought, but my heart beats the rhythm of the human spirit,
Freedom’s song.
The passion of humanity and individuality flows through my veins, it’s how I was made.

Ask why.
My mother could be unwilling to care for me, or might have been raped,
I do not know.
But I do know I’m not to blame.

Ask why.
My only protection from the world has turned on me.
Turn away
You won’t protect me from my kin, though I have no fighting chance.

Ask why!
I wish I could understand how the world could be so cruel as to blame me.
In this world
That promotes this and only this way out, I wish I wasn’t made guilty.

I cry.
I might be incapable physically, but I’d try.
The heart that
Is still in formation, oh how it can feel heartache.

I cry.
This is how it feels to be forsaken, and now I’ll never meet my first love, laugh with friends, or chance the American Dream.
I think little
But if only I’d been given the chance for after-thought, these are what I’d say.
Yes, if I had a voice before my death sentence, these are what I’d plea.

I die.
If only I was given the chance to forgive you and this world, then I could have tried.
But I die,
I die.