Draconian

Location

Poems are a changing thing and are at worst a dragon.
Come to consume thoughts and drag words like virgins to the stake.
             when I was a witchy thing, black wings spread over in grief.
              I began to breath fire from depths of pain that no longer
              We're hidden- safe.
What a beast! Her eyes hot and tongue sharp and beauty unfolding
With each rip from a torn soul, oh! And to me, the greater the passion
The more a story is told.
              So it seems dark embers stir this creatures heat,
               While thundering for meaning as
               Joy to love, like a monster my dragon was only
               Trained to eat.
Molting form a maidens horror purity was up to fight,
Against the memories and faded- incomplete prose
That only taunted the will to abide.
               Writing only when voice can not answer
                and my heart offends- the more it bends
                To serve the dragon's fire.

Comments

Need to talk?

If you ever need help or support, we trust CrisisTextline.org for people dealing with depression. Text HOME to 741741