The two were one, now they are two. I was born, I was new, then I spoke, I was no good, I was me, I had flaws countless and contagious as disease, not the least of which grew. I was me, I was mine, I was not yours. I could not be you. Mother, you took from me the drought and gave it meaning, you smacked the pout right off my feeling, you kept stars lit on the ceiling so you could navigateout from my room. It was noon when the sun set in you.