Engulfed in the peaceful warmth, darkness surrounds me—just how I like it.
I am dragged without willingness from my home, wrapped in hands.
The blaze from a bright star hits my long, orange body—yet, I’m cold.
Secured on a piece of wood, the sunlight dies.
A thin mirror slices my hair swiftly and then I hear a crunch.
Amidst the stillness, I feel overwhelming agony.
Relinquished, I fall back into warmth.
My body melts.
I’ve changed—I’m sure.
Poured onto a background of a shiny white,
brothers and sisters surround me,
now enveloped in a vast inequality.
I am moved, placed in front of a girl. She’s petite.
“I don’t like carrots,” she says.
Once again, I drop into white, a thin plastic, then it’s dark—I will start again.