I want to become a cactus when I graduate.

Planted in a pot by a window full of sunlight,

Colorful with buds, full of life, thriving.

I was born in the snow thunderstorm at 5 am,

Not a grain of sand would touch my skin,

I could only know the wetness of the air.

And for four years I caged my mom.

I was made of 100% cotton below the skin,

Above, my skin was made of hydrophobic sandpaper,

It oozed then fell off like a frostbitten lizard tail.

Crying for my mother from pain when touched.

I would be the Ruby Red Moon Cactus,

It has a little red hat, but it’s not the same.

The hat lives separately from the green body,

It’s alive, it’s a parasite.