Short-toothed animal

still mouthy, they whisper, not knowing

I am trying to repent from myself.

No more will I be unhappily iambic,

gleefully sitting up to scribe the raid.

You might know me as the eyebaggy

sibyl of the playground, too quick

to forget I am mortgaged and made,

one of the lucky few. Goodbye, Zone 3!

I confess I had a hand in going, though

the other five were entirely incidental.

Please remember me bright and unspoiled,

fresh and eggy. Although I suppose I was

worded back then, and always have been.