My hand touches my face, leather-like texture under slender fingers.

The past 21 months have been mixed together like a poisonous stew, with succulent joyous pieces of meat, yet one particularly toxic invader.

Ever since me and my family crossed from our land of desert, still in the same country yet still so far, we were like lizards moving into a pack of deer nested in the midwestern plains.

I did not realize at the time that I would be picked up like I was at PetCo by curious deer, to see how I acted based on where I was born.

What I shortly realized after was that I would be teased, seen like a experiment as how much it would take for a “lethal” lizard to break. 

This seemed to happen with the whole pack, and even my own family seemed to shed scales for furs and antlers. 

The land itself called for change, bitter snow biting under my near-infinite coats and layers.

Before long I could barely recall the feel of sand, the color of wildflowers, making 16 years feel like a blink. My stew of life tastes decedent between my sharp teeth, yet I know it will be my own end as I simply continue to eat. 

Now the only ones who speak to me seem to be those from my past who still hold their scales. 

As I now look in the mirror, long claws reach beneath my leathery skin, peeling away like dried glue to reveal simply me, a discarded novelty, limited edition, now with antlers.