I was this girl who felt like she had to hide when they came to town. I went upstairs and layed under the bed with coloring vooks and magic markers and wrote all over the mattress. I was always found by someone who wanted to take away my markers. So I yelled and screamed and hit and kicked until my shirt flew up and my soft belly was exposed. They would always stop and point and stare as I lay there, eyes open whide, fists shit tight. I pulled down my shirt and wrote on their ankles. I ripped up my coloring book and stuffed it in my mouth. I reached out and toughed the unicorn passing by and it trampled my hand. I've decided not to be the girl that feels like she has to hide.