A mind is a terrible thing
To have
Made waste by others.
My reason cerebral,
My raison d'être,
Made to unmake me as me.
"The client is the expert on the client."
This is the assumption,
The rule,
The very truth of experience.
Yet when I speak of my experience—
My life,
My personhood—
It's a "conflict of interest" to listen.
I am "too close to speak",
A snake in the garden,
Poisoning innocence
When I whisper to them,
"You aren't alone."
And so the snake's ear
Is turned to my testimony,
Rend'ing me
Mute and struck,
As they strike me—
Their "snake"—
From the record,
So that, in a sense,
Innocence may live,
And without sense,
Innocents. Will. Die.