And I am a prowling, open-minded mantle. Whatever species I encounter, whatever circumstances, whatever topic I can deal with quickly. In front of different friends, I was always able to quickly capture each other's characteristics and pretend to be a role for his needs.
I can't help but show off my skill. After all, I've trained myself for a long time. There are lots of scales, and that's the good thing.
Everyone loves me because I'm a rare, precious animal. I'm a baby. To be a baby needs some basic qualities. For example: disguise, compassion, understanding, always there to help. Sisters always like to consult me about their relationship problems. They're a lot of things. I'll take them all. It's so reliable to go through a mountain armor, but I'm single. Could be the reason for our species.
A mountain armor is always worn. This is my meat, my shield, my harbor. There are three patterns of the scales, with a diamond-shaped back, vertical stripes and smooth edges. The shape of the shield was near the abdomen, and a dragon bone burst in the centre and fell to the tail. The scales at the tail are folded. The scales are made of razor blades, beautiful geometry, spread from the centre of the back to both sides and stacked down.
This is my favorite point - that there are rules, absolute rules, that there will never be any mess. Sometimes my friends say that I'm looking at it, and it's probably the effect of my magma baker - geometry fighters.
We're soldiers with our own natural defence walls, and it's almost impossible for ordinary people to take over my lines. In the event of an attack, the body will be squirmed into a spherical form, so that the planks will be covered with no shadows, as is the case (a performance). Protect yourself, cherish life. Under the scales, all my truths can be hidden.
My cracks only grow inside. Mom and dad were always fighting. He hit her and she hit him. I don't know who started it, whose fault it was. I just remember two people always playing around, like a ping-pong game. Mom's crying. I hate crying. I hate watching her cry. I hate crying. But always crying. It's the same thing now. I cry when I'm in a hole.
It's like this, especially in me. Usually, I choose the soft, wet ground. A thicker earth, more organic surface. In general, each hole is similar to an indoor design, with a large hole connected to many small holes, like rooms with different functions. Each room allows me to weep in my own heavens and earth.
It's the only one I've ever tried to occupy. Or should we go like a wind? None of us gave each other a chance, no kiss. I can't do it with men. This empty room is for men who never existed. Don't come near me, I'm nervous.
This is the hallucinating room, where I'm most comfortable. Here, my true love - his image is so clear, concrete, perfect and meets all my needs. His shoulder is like this, his shirt wrinkles like this, his hair is like this, a little curly. Smart, sensitive, confident, ambitious. When I think of him, my scales are melting. Like this, crack it off.
This room leads to unknown. It's not done yet. It must lead to an open world, where I can dig a hole in the centre of a free universe, and I can dig it forever...
"I'm watching."