where the writers are
Fantasy of growing up
Reading somewhere inside the thick lines.

When I grow up, I want to be a dancer or maybe an artist.

I want to write poetry of my lingering childhood trauma as I sleep inside a make-believe panorama.

I want to be a veterinarian perhaps, help the little sweet animals get better as I storm out the internal weather.

Forget all that, I don't know who I want to be except a butterfly suckling on a flowering tree.

When I grow up, I want to write about who I am and maybe sugar coating my mental insights.