I don’t remember being born
There was screaming, I suppose
And I have the documents to prove
That I existed on that day
In that specific place
With this specific name
There were three people in the room
Some papers were signed
Some papers that would matter
For the rest of my life

A sequence of numbers
Told me where I would stand
An identity was folded
Into an infant's hand

I never asked to be born
It wasn’t my fault
But with birth comes borders
An invisible box
Where I must always stay
And never hope to break away
Because all that I would be
Was determined on that day