Her Own

The Follower-
Not anywhere to be found in the crowd of clones,
Footsteps in sync with all the rest;her shadow trailing behind.
Eyes envy green with a hint of unknowingness,
Brought up and scribbled on by the names of those who have betrayed;
Dirty palms from the work for others,
Not even the reflection in the mirror displays the correct form of human she is named to be.
When does the shape shifter begin to finally mold?
Mold into the shape it was birthed to be?
The moment her heart choose's beat at it's own pace,
The second she shifts her step to her own beat.
When she decides to change.
Right now, she's becoming her her full potential.
Wiping the dirt off her hands,
Making her way through her own crowd of diversity,
She whisper's "I am me."