Who was I? That is the question. I remember unfolding, efflorescing. Borne by electrified mechanism, forward, soaring, sparing no change. Change is Time; in time Death. Yet, I did not hesitate. Unchanging is timeless; God. I could have been a Contender with God just as the rest of you. Mother, Father, I was your suicide. Why? I had the faith of a mustard seed. Why did not you? Mother, did you have to walk behind Father who would not look at you? Father, why did you not open the door? Father, Mother, God, why have you forsaken me? I am an unborn identity. Foretold, forgone, forgotten. For what? Thirty pieces of fetal tissue hanging yourselves in the incinerator.





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