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 ^{(it's beta!)}

Oh, it’s painful to begin. Sitting in that tiny counselor’s office counting in Latin. I suppose ‘painful’ is an urgent word of unnecessary degree (since these days people overkill words associated with emotion). Nonetheless, this tiny girl in that tiny office has the eyes of a Roman column. Her feet don’t hit the floor but she stands taller than any ancient empire ever did. They don’t understand, though. The adults live everywhere in their literal minds pushing their literal words down her throat (literally).

“Say your ABC’s correctly, stand in line, don’t talk now, LISTEN.”

Listening can be a vicious disease. It ravages the mind, creates an impure exaggeration of reason. The brain shifts from bronze to marble, hard to soft when the rage of observation throws art into overdrive. Her beautiful brain sculpted for creativity is moments away from being melted down, wiled into weaponry, and used against her very being.

Ah, such is reality. Tiny feet kicking back and forth as a pendulum. Walls about her frown at pleasure as plaques bearing meaningless words leer from behind glare. Her tiny age creates a comfortable guard against literacy and the titles trying to attack her are inevitably thwarted. She knows she isn’t missing some piece of crucial evidence for this (voice is much more effective than abrasive text). Little fists like gladiators battle each other as she waits for the counselor and a parent orating just outside.

“Her imagination is incredible but her behavior is disruptive.”

Democracy can be a vile thing. It mangles individuality, grossly honors the submissive nature of the public. Selfishness breeds genuine personality without the glamour of artificial nobility. The pallid game of tic-tac-toe could be played alone (no doubt, this little girl would indeed play alone) and voting x’s or o’s would suddenly lose appeal. It is contradictory, though. Wine is watered to taste and she will never know why (even as she will live trying).

Yea, it’s living that’s worth life. Crowding in thoughts of escape from that tiny counselor’s office. I suppose it would be terrifying to know life is painful from the beginning (perhaps painful is an understatement since these days learning new words seems a sin). Still, this little girl idles in that little room as time makes it swell to the size of a coliseum. The lions are just outside, bidding before they can properly rip the bulla from her neck. Metaphorical gladiators can’t battle literal beasts (literally).