Become The Dragon

This world is not real, and neither is the pain.

 

Go back. Look. Face the source.

 

This is part of your pain:

 

I remember you,

With reluctance.

 

Reluctantly

I feel.

 

I feel you

With callused fingers

Insensitive

to touch.

 

Hidden beneath.

The raw.

 

The pain.

The insanity,

On imagined cushions.

Cotton candy.

 

Nauseating.

 

Sharp verbal knives

Spoken by a madman.

 

To cut,

And form the world

Like uneven silhouettes

Of gingerbread men

And women.

 

Cut with dull

Utensils.

 

Then you hid.

 

Here:

 

Rainbow fire

Behind crystal walls

Peaceful, peaceful

Is my room.

 

Panoramic windows

Look out upon the stars

Floating in space

I am.

 

Music of the universe

Unearthly tones

Joyous and solemn

I hear.

 

This haven is mine

It rocks me gently

Soothing my soul

And mind.

 

This is my room

Where I go for comfort

Where I can breathe

 

In me.

 

But you never became the dragon you were meant to be:

 

The animals flock around

Like hyenas to a carcass

Coveting

What they believe is their right

To devour.

 

Yelping as they plunder

Dancing in circles

With crooked backs

Ugliness personified

Laughing.

 

Carnivores with peanut brains

Pick up the scent

Of imagined weakness

Blinded by vanity

They attack.

 

This “carcass” will be their demise

What they think they see

They do not know

For hyenas are turned to ants

And crushed underfoot

 

When they awaken

The sleeping dragons.

 

Therein lies the pain.

 

Become the dragon.

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