In another life,
I would not be the girl
I am today.

I would not be
too pale
too freckley
too fat
too awkward
too lonely
too quiet
too much of a pushover
too oily
too pimpley
too plain.

In another life
I imagine myself
as a silent assassin.
With power and might;
I glide the rooftops
and dominate the night.

In another life
I am a sassy bad girl.
I'd pop off in seconds,
and attack with cunning skill,
so that none would mess with me,
unless they'd want to get killed.

In another life
I am a thin and hollow body,
a nameless maiden who roams
halls of white tile.
Donned in a buckled down
white jacket that crosses
at the arms so I constantly
get to hug myself.

In another life
I am not
the girl I am today.
I would be someone,
with a story worth telling.