We all are unique magicians

From a painter to a nurse
To a poet that writes a verse
We create it in our own way
To brighten up somebody's day

We may all not have mind blowing tricks
Though our goodness still sticks
Our efforts never go unnoticed
And we don't make use of hypnosis

We all are created for a specific use
Each with our own personal muse
We all are unique magicians
And we will fulfill our missions

Desire... maddening...
...destructive inside.
What a waste of a healthy body
designated to be mine.
These healthy limbs have no use
under the command of my crippled mind.
My head spins in disgust for my own kind,
for myself, for my equals, for my life.
This need is like acid, corroding my every cell,
leaving me cornered on my own edge.
My skin is burning... and it's desire,
a primal urge haunting me at night.

I sometimes wonder if it was fated.

Maybe it is my job to be the evil one now.

Maybe we were meant to switch roles this way

And I was meant to experience this pain, this empty, this hatred

For everything for being nothing I ever wanted.

Lately I find myself stopping and wondering,

"Did you feel this way too? Behind closed doors and in your waking every day life, were you also consumed by this?
Have you wanted to be better but every day become
Jeckle and Hyde even though you didn't want to?
Did you experience the loneliness?
The distance? The fear? The panic?
The pure hell that is this existence?!"

Sometimes I really do wonder.
Sometimes I get curious enough to want to ask.
Sometimes I am really glad I can't ask when the moment sparks
because that means opening a whole new door,

Building a whole new bridge again
And DEAR GOD how it hurt growing up and watching the ones
I put so much work into get blown apart, repeatedly set ablaze by the dynamite you set off again and again and I just watched.
Like a child who just had their tower of blocks pushed over
I watched my bridge constantly decimated by fire, as each piece fell into the moat you built around your castle that you built around yourself to continue to waste away like the skeleton King you are
as you whisper your last breath, "You never really loved me."

Now look at you.
King of Nothing.

Who had a skeleton princess who swiped away her father's ashes from the gold laced throne and she took his place.
She dies waiting for her Prince that will never come
because she simply won't let down the draw bridge.