The old broken sack
Rocked in a chair.
Deep within the wrinkles of her face,
Past the fractures in her arms,
And in the bottoms of her blind black orbs,
She smiled at the children clustered round her deathbed.

"Do you remember," she said,
"The story which once I told your parents?"

"Yes." said the many children.
They were children of all sparkling colors,
Of all different faces,
And the Lizard Matriarch noted this.

"I was wrong," said she,
"Partly wrong.
I am no different from any of you."
And they gasped in astonishment,
And looked at each other's faces for any sign of her.

"Each of us is strange,
Each of us has a structural idiosyncrasy
And a basic different core.
It is not I alone who is evolved,
Nor I alone who is a step in the experiment,
But it is every baby born.
There is no normal."

She cried strange tears from her wrecked eyes.

"Nature has chosen all of us
To be her Freaks."