Fairy-tales scribbled on my arms

And the sky,

Grey like the city's smog was

My ink on those chilly afternoons

In October.

Green leaves, bright and clashing with the

Décor of this daydream I was living in,

Floated up like cherry blossoms to

A thunderstorm that tore them up

That tore me down

That scattered me to the winds where I would

Never be found.

And the words, those scrawled hopes

Of a young child,

They flew from me as I gagged and choked –

As I grew up –

And shriveled like fall leaves on the concrete

And waited to be crunched under

Adult, all-knowing shoes.