Dungeons and Dragons
The world of my childhood
Was so bleak as to be
Untenable. There *were good
Times, yes. These were as
Gems set in clay. A black
Muck that oozed from the
Dungeon of despair.
I was so demonstrative
In my need for acceptance
And love the other children,
As kids do, smelled the
Blood in the water. And,
As children do, they attacked.
I was dog meat. Which
Made me all the more
Vicious toward my poor
Baby brother. Which
Made me feel more
Guilty. And so went the
Spiral of despair. Finally
I found the "cure" for
My angst. Fantasy.
I have no idea how
To even begin to tell
You about my fantasies.
I began to rock myself
To sleep at a very young
Age. A self-comforting
Action I acquired from
Babyhood. I also bounced.
On our springy couch, I'd
Rock myself back & forth
So as to bounce myself
From the back of it. I'd
Listen to music while
Doing this, and fantasize
Of being in lands beyond
My ability to describe here.
It would be too time
Consuming. But I was
Heroine of my
Daydreams. Beautiful.
Wise. Immortal. Like
One of JRR Tolkien's
Elves. I loved his books.
I devoured fantasy
Stories. And absolutely
Loved dragons.
I started drawing
Painting at a very young
Age. And the dragon was
My greatest source of
Inspiration. He was the
Catalyst which brought
The fantastic brew to life...
...and nearly destroyed me.
There's an upside to all
This, folks. The dragon is
Satan. He's the author
All addiction, pain and.
Suffering on earth.
Well. I know his secrets.
And I aim to expose them
One... by... *ONE!*
SøułSurvivør
(C) 5/27/2017
It's now 1:00 in the morning.
I really should try to sleep.
But I needed to get some of
This stuff off my chest.
Thanks for reading and not
Judging me. I WAS a weird
Child. But I had my reasons...