The light was not always obvious, I told him.
I appreciate the experiences, but I miss the sights.
The pressure in the tunnel I live in has grown too great,
I feel compressed.
And I thought he would hear the rhyme,
but he never understood; I was depressed.
I was shadowed by myself and by his expectations.
I was not perfect, but I was intelligent.
But I wanted to live in the trees and vouch for the Earth,
our Mother.
But he never told me about his mother.
I saw her often, but never knew who she was.
Never knew who he was before me, before my mother.
What made him smile on the school bus?
Was it the sun? Or was it the coming of the moon?
My mother didn't believe my choice in emotions.
I didn't choose to be this way.
The towel on the hook hasn't been used
Because the chemicals will burn my skin like they were burned away from the earth.
I am obsessed.
The addiction to loving her consumes me, sometimes.
The lady bugs that fall from the ceiling light onto my desk remind me how small I am,
but how noticeable I can be.
I can be heard, but not by all.
I am a cloud in a sky.