I am turning with the leaves back home,
Tossing and turning and changing colors.

I feel the black stain on the back of my neck,
It hits me hard like a reverse sunburn.

It begins to insult my composition.

I envy quiet self-awareness
A deranged ruminant licking at its cud.
I want your stripped and tightened frame,
But at least I'm fodder for a better day.

You're a good mix all ways.

You're a damsel in distress.

You're a nightmare to conceive,

But you're a good mix,
All ways.