like trying to learn to breathe underwater

You do not belong here. You have known that as long as you could know anything. You do not belong in this house, wrapped in the arms of Mother and Father like wires. Sister like a knife. The names they give you are wrong. Even the one that is closest, the one youve come to fit like wearing in once-blistering shoes. It is not your name. But they have the Words to bind you. To spin you up in telephone cables, pin your arms to your sides. Tangle your feet till you fall. The have the tools to make y...