The morning sun hidden still, shifting the air into a drowsy blue,

Creating the sense that I am alone in this moment as I sprint across the road in the silence.

Brown ringlets crash around my face

As I come to a jerking stop, streaks of auburn shining under the almost morning sun.

My mother striding to where I stand waiting,

Her gold locks immovable to the sun-kissed breeze.

Eyes a vivid emerald under the morning light

Her hands reach behind to the space her cascade of gold is tied,

Only to hand me the very thing holding it together.

A plastic butterfly with round swirling wings

Concealing rows of sharp teeth,

Perfectly aligned,

Elegant even.

All revealed under the pinch of two fingers,

The strain of a metal coil unhinging the maw of plastic teeth just to snap back with a clip

'Put your identity in a box',

It seemed to whisper

'Hideaway the key.'

'I don’t want to see you if you don’t look like me', said someone.

'I can hide you', it seemed to say

'I can hide you,

Make you look like them.

Such a pretty thing you are',

It told me

'I can make you look even better.'

Am I supposed to object?

Who said a calm lake looked better than crashing waves?

And am I supposed to agree?

I twist my curling mane into a knot at the top of my head,

Pinching with the cruel plastic teeth until it is contained.

Under the cover of a smirking design

Winking in the morning sun