Born as something slathered…. for the lions and the wolves… licking their chops…. tonguing their teeth for lather Never would I gather…. the world could write me off in infancy…. and would rather…. make sure my life is tattered. I don’t know what’s sadder… that… or the fact that my parental units…. are only aiding the matter. See…mother…never had her… Father…served me up on a platter. Take my last name from the former… a mystery is the latter. My history’s no grander… generations failing to glimpse… much less gander…. at the concepts containing realization of the answers. So society’s telling me to die and bleed… go somewhere I can fire breathe faster… but if I have been captured…. then I have seen masters… yet I have been enraptured…. by a life that teems with laughter… because this society seems a joke… something I have deemed a factor. So they plant a seed…. an apple seed? No… I am indeed disaster. Want the story of my life…? Read the first and last chapters… first…damned…last…damned…. no happily ever after. But these barriers aren’t ironclad… along the lines of plaster… or just glass ceilings… that I’ve been told have feelings… Yet no remorse when they are shattered… beaten…bruised…and battered… broken down… like those living all their lives… under their invisibly imposing stature. Who could perpetuate such an acture…? Is it such a manipulative actor… or a machine…that makes you make believe… you were merely conceived for fruitlessness and useless banter… carnage and chaos bringing… mobile masses of cancer… global plague infestation… death come down from the rafters? Spell casters… tie your limbs like puppeteers… and turn you into magic dancers… disorienting thought as they fashion prancers…. trapped in crystalline cages. . . . . Break glass in state of emergency.