I poke the snakes who call themselves dragons, each time they bite back bitterly and a bit of their poison seeps into my veins. My mama always told me that I was too soft for a world like this, but now sheβs the one locked away unable to cope. I may appear unwell and you may believe me to be broken but I promise my fingers will break before I ever stop holding my pieces together and my lungs will burst sooner than I cease to breathe fire.