Days removed from the womb
And they tell you that you have your father's eyes
Your brother's hair
And your mother's fiery disposition

Years down the road
And they tell you that the sky has lost its color
And speak, ad nauseum, of how your fate is entwined
With that of only the fairest of maidens

Pattering feet thunder down the hallway
As serendipity bleeds from eye to cheek
And nothing, no one, of this world
Can exhaust its endless supply

At the midpoint of what textbooks describe only as 'crisis'
Is where motion and emotion collide
And everyone, even the fairest of maidens
Run screaming back to the safety of castle walls

Then, almost as swiftly as life began
Oxygen starts to taste poisonous on an unfurled tongue
As pupils contract, ****, wouldn't father be proud
Of a son who sees what he only wants to see

Then come the grains of truth in the fairy tale
The ones so fine, that you would need a microscope
While tomorrow feels more like a curse
And the blessings, have taken flight and left the nest

Here at last, I feel at peace with the war I've waged
And sunsets don't seem as violet as the violence I've left behind
My mother's fiery disposition
Now simply ashes swept away by eastward winds