I ask them not to be mad
when we run 'round the room but
we pave the paths with our feet like
peasants.

I tell her, my mother, O mama
don't cry, but to watch me elevate
and tower like a pterodactyl
underneath the cool breath of the newborn sun.

They told me that I'd perish,
that if I couldn't see the light, then there would be no light,
but I did not wither, I chose to try twice.

Because all they want me to do is quit,
I quit-they win
I quit-they triumph
I quit-and they pave paths that I had not traveled
with their two flat feet like peasants.