There are so many things I don’t know about.
I have hangnails, cracked nail polish and mud on my shoes.
I’m in the womb of this creature called the Town.
I can feel the air trying to rid my body of foreign substances.
Towns are always like this.
To fit in and become a part of this would take ages.
So I continue on slowly, ,slowly trying to be acknowledged.
I am alone, left behind by the herd.
The sun sets quietly.
The cold air is holding me tightly, yet my body is burning.
I would like to be accepted.
The light reflected by the buildings around me ask,
“Where are you from?”;”Why are you here?”
“I don’t know.”-I answer.
That’s why I keep walking.
Should I put rouge on my lips?
I’m stopped by a reflection of myself in a shop window.
My lips look a little redder,which cheers me up.
I smile at myself.
“How do I look?”
The town is swelling.
Not quite a welcome, but more tender than rejection.
The sunset paints my cheeks grenadine like blush.