Disclaimer: As before.
Author's Note: Thank you for the reviews on the first chapter. I was delighted to hear that you think the effort wasn't too shabby, given that I've only ever written about two half decent poems in my life. I'm usually far too wordy to condense what I want to say in a poem. As I feel this author's note demonstrates fairly efficiently. Anyway, this one is Alex. I'm not sure I like it quite as much as the Addison one, a little bit of story seems to have crept in there against my will, rather than it being the reflective kind of thing I was aiming for, but hey, it's up to you. Next, probably Izzie, perhaps Mark. Let me know your thoughts.
By the way, I've only seen Season 3 of Grey's, and although I'm confident-ish that I've got a grip on characters' backstories and what went on beforehand, if you spot an error, please let me know and I'll make a correction if needed. I'd hate for a piece of my writing to be ruined by inaccuracies.
I am Alex Karev
I am my mother, and I am every shard of glass I picked out of her hands after another drunken fall.
I am the vodka bottles I used to bury in the garden so the neighbours wouldn't know.
I am my sisters, and the need to protect them.
I am every cut and bruise I couldn't save them from.
I am every snarling insult my father threw at me,
And I am every time I argued back, just so he'd hit me instead.
I am six months of wrestling training, and I am the moment I put him out of the house for good.
I am the unforgiving look on my mother's face when she realised he wasn't coming back.
I am the running away, and the never looking back. Or trying to.
I am College, and Med School, and proving that I'm not worthless.
I am a doctor.
And I am not worthless.
I am one of "Bailey's Interns".
I am Meredith, and Izzie, and Cristina, and George.
I am hours of pointless scut work, and the fight for surgeries.
I am the ferry crash, and I am every last one of those frantic family members.
I am Ava, or Rebecca,
And a crazy welter of invention on both our parts.
I am loss, and failure.
I am the nameless, faceless women I have used.
I am the thrill of the chase, and the emptiness it leaves.
I am Izzie Stevens.
I am the gasp of her pleasure and the sting of her anger,
And I am the rustle of her prom dress as I lift her in my arms.
I am Addison Montgomery,
And respect, and lust, and something more besides.
I am the fear that I am not good enough for either of them.
I am a Neo-Natal Surgeon, for reasons I don't quite understand.
I am the hope that I can become a better man.
I am last night's unexpected phone call,
And I am the decision I now face.