Popcorn

I write because light paper can carry things

Things that are too heavy 

What am supposed to do when I don’t have my journal

Am I meant to feel things?

My fingers tremble as I take slow step after slow step toward the end of the Polaris hallway.

Walking towards the community building, I find myself growing nervous. I see the signs for the support groups, one for each species. As I get closer I see them, the humans.

You ask me for dinner, 

You ask me for life, 

You ask me for help,

Every single night. 

You ask me for money, 

You know we don't have, 

You ask me for everything, 

Everyone carries a little bag full of marbles,

But I didn’t get one.

I have to carry them myself,

And I managed to,

until I realized something,

This is hard to do.

Most people don’t notice

I was born a Wednesday’s Child of Woe.

Born the year of nothing-

Before the End-Of-All.

Born 11:52 am, November 21, 2007.