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A child of little adaptation to societal norms
Traipses the wilds of the backyard woodland-
Hops fences of the schoolyard
Walks the drudgery of gutters’ throwaways
On her daily escapades through an ostracized life.
She walks with her head down, eyes open,
Ensuring no plunder is missed along the journey.
Each inspiring a story
She tells whomever might listen
Or stand near,
Then pockets each treasure for the journey home –
Placing each paragon of significance gingerly in a shoebox
She calls her treasure chest of stories, of her life,
Of blue and white flowered contact paper,
Waterproof, shiny, sturdy
Protecting hand-me-downs suitable of a tomboy.