Growing.

When she was little, she wanted to become
A dragon
Imagined every day that maybe her hands were
Green
Or maybe that patch of dry skin would be
Scales,
Or the ache in her shoulders meant that
Wings
Would rip out of her someday, and fold up
Gently.

When she got older, the dry skin became
Smooth
And the greenish tones of her pale hands became
Tan
And she let herself go free, released the dragon, and the
Stories
That it told her when she had a pencil in her
Hand
And turned to the humans instead of the
Dragons.

And then, a little later on, it returned
A tiger
The dragons gone, the tiger tore into her for every
Glance
Cast sideways, every remark, every bad
Grade
The tiger rose up and raked its claws into her
Body
If she could shrivel up and let the tiger
Kill her

And then, a little later on, the tiger
Fell
And rose again, and wanted
More
Turned outwards, away from her, and
Now
Wanted blood, wanted to rip them
Apart
Even if they had done nothing, let them
Suffer.

Still now she
Waits
For the day
When
the tiger will
Attack
And she will forget
Altogether
Who the dragons
Were.