" 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 , The Goodbye Song