Blue Monday!
The Last Word
Straight But Not Narrow

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Lonely Tree
       A short favoritest me that is =), what about it? Its short, sweet, and one of my favorite pieces...which I already said. I'm sure you can figure out exactly what I was intending the message to be...its not cryptic =) Enjoy!

    My mother's name is Clear Sky, she insists we call her Cleo. My father's name is George, he wishes we'd call him Tall Pine. My name is unknown, to me at least. My mother calls me Wayne, an average American name, in her opinion. My father calls me Yellow Tree, a Native American name he creative.
    He is fully British, having come from London as an orphaned teenager. My mother is a full-blooded Native American, but she adamantly refuses to tell me from which one. I am their only child, and I cause them more trouble than joy.
    That is why I have decided to leave. Since the day of my birth they have had arguments concerning my name, my religion, my heritage. Mother once said that she'd only married him so that her children wouldn't end up like her. What's like her? A Native American? Why is she ashamed of such a diverse and fascinating past?
    I often feel lonely, though I have never really been alone. As long as I can remember, I've had my closest friend, Pal. Pal has shiny black hair and a white star on his right leg.
    Father named him Running Star. Mother calls him Ralph. I wonder if he feels like me?