I am the boy in the felt and polyester-coth onesie,
The one in bright purples and neon orange.
The one people stare and gawk at,
Pointing out that I am not wearing dull clothing like the duller crowd.
Shouting out of empty mouths, helium comments, inflated and squeaky and meek.
Whispering into ear of other, lead insults, about how weird, how newly millennial.
They cannot understand nor do they choose to comprehend me.
Why wear that? Why not a nice white button-down, or some jeans?
Why keep this hidden? Why not cloth myself with this, not hide it away inside a trunk?
In this dragon-skin, I am alive.
I embrace the harrowing colours of my one-peice, I let it become me.
I do not need to explain my lilac scales, nor my sunset nails.
All there is to explain requires no words.
Because I am no longer the boy is the dragon onesie, no, no.
I am a dragon, in the body of a boy.
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