I am a thin strip of parchment paper skin draped across a skeleton. I am a xylophone rib cage whose main purpose, countless science classes have assured me, is to protect that lumpy organ poets have pined over for countless centuries. The heart. Fat load of good that protection has done me over the years; I guess that bony body armour won't give me much protection if I keep wearing this thing on my sleeve. I am long legs that dance off-beat to society's terrible tune. I am a brain who holds it's demons in high regard.
I am.
I am me.
I am finally figuring out what that means.
