My spine is The Bell Curve
From the weight of My Ponder
As I travel round The World
In search of Earth’s Fonder…

I can’t sit still
Nor stand up straight;
I foster
Such disproportionate posture
I’d dye my skin–
I’m dying to relate
For still I shrug back at

Where’s my agency?
From Cancer, I lost Her.
Why should I trust Them,
When They look like the monster?
It is Life I will live
For it was Life that It cost Her
“This is not Life,” They scoff,
(I will always be her daughter)
“Well I’m here, check me off”
(They fodder my dollar)
Whether they see me or watch me,
I’ll still shred their roster.
Be it saint; be it scholar;
To die free
Would be
The honor.

If to Them, This is mere existence,
May This Life be of resistance.