I didn't ask for this did I. This humaness. This riot of feeling and bones and spit. I didn't ask for it. Did I line up in some infamous line raising my hand for broken dreams, bloody wounds and babies. Did I go along with the quiet whispers of suicide. Did I decide to annihilate the justification of peace in humanity by being born. This is it, a torn life, a leaf that grows in a slender sunlight amidst heaps of rubble and thorn.