Cancer took a toll upon my body, staph failed to kill me, but it tried
I bled ink all my life, a heart filled with black ink from soot and ash
My flesh burned inside from many moments of unstopped bleeding
It is not about being born different or mutants, it is not my strength
It is my weakness, I'm given a burning need, one that speaks at last
Being able to feel emotions isn't a strength, it doesn't help me cope
My flesh made of sorrow, my heart was woven in grieving stitches
I stare out upon all the injustice in life, as the poor never find hope
