Your hands flicker flash, harsh,
Choppy, the paper between us
Scrawled with arguments.
I fight the urge to look away
And not listen, to ask
And not sign: "Why are you angry?"
At the implant, my new life.
But you are ashamed that
I can hear now; you cannot.
As if I have betrayed you, everyone,
Our "culture", with the cochlear
Grandma bought as a gift.
I am too young to understand
But my sister signs: "Freak"
When you are not looking
And I already say insults to her
When no one is looking at me.
It is my only secret anymore.
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