if i were a child deep within the brush and thistle of a thick forrest, i would befriend the squirrels and pixies, make aquantance with the owls and theive them uninterrupted to prey upon the rats, my enemy. i would dig my feet into the mud and bathe in the dirty water, wear my hair in wild flowers, and tattoo my body with oleander. if i were a bird high above you, i would fly over your balcony each night as you slept and pearch upon your love seat just to see you in peace. wounded as i am, i would make a home on your rooftop with strands of your hair and scraps of your collections of nonsense. but i am but me, a human, a girl. i cannot be alone without being lonely for you are a peice of me. i am not one with the earth nor winged. my all is myself and your mistake.