there’s a Dragon on my shoulder
a roiling mass of fire and smoke
burning me to my very core
strangling me until i weep and choke

there’s a Dragon on my shoulder
her embrace is a gentle deception
as she fills my mind with pernicious night
and darkness bridles my perception

there’s a Dragon on my shoulder
serpentine whispers ensnare me as she sings
words of loathing to all that i am
and becomes the blade with which i cut my skin

there’s a Dragon on my shoulder
her incremented tail wraps around my thighs
“food is a bane,” she chastises
as she waves my weight before my eyes

there’s a Dragon on my shoulder
and i believe her pseudo truths
i am a burden to those who care
and should accept her fatal noose
 
there’s a Dragon on my shoulder
and there are thoughts in my head
thoughts of starving, of cutting, of hatred
and of how i deserve to be dead

there’s a Dragon on my shoulder
but there’s a teacher of hope in my life
who says violent Dragons are grueling to tame
but will carry you the furthest when they fly

We all have dragons on our shoulders
We all have burdens We shall bear
until We become dauntless dragon riders
and when the strongest rise
We’ll be there

there is a girl
with stars in her eyes.
i am drawn to her
like an astronomer
to the heavens.

there is a girl
with hair as soft
and flowing
as the breeze that caresses
silken petals.

there is a girl
whose lips
as they brush my cheek
transport me to a realm
where intimacy is allowed to exist.

there is a girl
with whom i want to spend
as much time as possible.
i want to know all there is to know.
i want to be close to her.
 
there is a girl.
the very thought of her
entices me to be reckless
to disregard my fears
and be guided by affection.

there is a girl
whom i dare say
i love.

“From ancient grudge break to new mutiny,
Where civil blood makes civil hands unclean.”
–William Shakespeare (Prologue to Romeo and Juliet)

I was hewn from the helpless limbs of a tree
Which could have grown
To become something magnificent

Through sanding and carving
Through varnishing and the work of human hands
I was formed

In a way, the tree which was mutilated to give me life
Was a foreshadowing of my truncheon fate

I swing through the air once again
A weapon in the hands of a vehement oppressor

Skin splits
Blood sprays
Bone shatters

Bodies litter the dust
Staining the earth with crimson testament
To the cruelty I have wrought
Some of the figures are marred
Reminiscent of the tree from which I was hewn
Which died to give me life

The dark throng of protestors
Are but mortals
Faced by the immortal power
Of those lighter beings
Who wield me, mercilessly

I wish to weep
For the destruction, pain
Anguish I leave in my wake

I wish I was still a living bough
Capable of shedding resin tears
Capable of yielding to greater forces
Not to force the vulnerable to break

But I cannot weep
I cannot yield

I am a baton
A weapon in the hands of those who swore to protect
Yet scythe down those who rise to protect what is rightfully theirs

Ancient grudge of black and white
Break to new mutiny of segregation
Where civil blood of those who seek protection
Makes civil hands who swore to guard them
Unclean.