Magnolia

I wrote this as a preface to a story a long, long time ago; I just found it and it intrigued me. Beside it I had drawn a body with the name "Magnolia" tattooed on it. It was too long ago for me to remember anything else.

Identification

based on

nothing but

looks and names. 

Something that

makes us who

we are, though

the decision

isn't ours.

We're named by

our parents, by

those who love

us most, but

what if they

are wrong?

Names are given,

not taken or chosen;

no promises of
perfection.

Changes can be
made, in a
perfect world
but what if you

couldn't escape?

Names tattooed on

at birth.
Rights to choose
never imagined.
Never.