Written By Tansy Gunnar (C) 2025. Previously published.
“It’s not as bad as it seems.”
Advice always given to me,
A mantra of resistance, not assistance.
Life proved worse than it appeared.
Nobody seemed to care,
“Shut up… stay quiet…
You’re embarrassing… the family.”
The wisdom of a grandmother, to a
Long abandoned biproduct of
An adoption, never really wanted.
For this reason alone,
I became the scapegoat.
If there was an issue anywhere,
It was my fault.
It didn’t matter, what came before or after,
Somehow… I was to blame–
Even today.
Thrown off a cliff, I clung to life.
Clinging to threads,
Government lifelines tossed aside.
Where I built a life
Outside their sphere, and anyone else’s.
In a stagnant space
Between parallel worlds.
I am society’s plight.
A failed attempt to clone
An ideal human.
One of wealth and power, a stark contrast to the
One of poverty, death, and disease,
To which I’ve received.
My invitations for outings consist of
Emergency calls to places where others
Are trapped deeper in this hell, than me.
3 am,
“Can you please come check my bp? I don’t feel right.”
“I don’t want to go to the hospital unless something’s off tonight.”
Pretend medic bag packed, and out the door–
A witch doctor to the core.
A personal advocate, to those whom I care for…
A ride, a meal, a brief conversation – a vital check-in,
Tending to the other scapegoats, forgotten by society,
Much like me…
Longing for a team,
To chase a dream, long faded into obscurity.
Perfectly Human 