The Dragon Became a Modern Poetaster

Playing the Rabbit

Playing the Rabbit

I don't know where you learned to play the rabbit.
Bunny, don't you know, the falcon has a right to go?

Sheer the sheep; reap the lives of your Saints.
Say your prayers but the fires will never abate.

Say goodbye before the door; meet the dogs of war.
Travel with head bowed down; crawl across the floor.

No one is going to accept your rulership.
The fantasy you tell me, the one you kiss upon my cheek,
it sparkles like the moon under their lips.

There is no harmony; knock at my door.
Millimeter by millimeter, you make your way closer
to the entryway. Day by day, it never changes, can't you
make this murder neat, tidy, and proper?

There is a reason for the wolf to enjoy the melon
at the tip of his tongue. Just one more time,
can't you let me experience happiness
without being judged for walking the wrong way?
It just drags on and on, pulled behind the truck
all the way across the desert.
Thorns at my back; I cut loose the slack
and take the mentioned mastery.
Contrast at the finger, shadow at the bottom
of the words. A Goddess you all made
out of gold, beauty, and disparity.

Are you seriously looking for truth
from the monster you made?
Look at this picture – you took it!
There is no way to heal away
sunscars. There is no truth
to beauty. It's all cruelty.

Shame they never gave me a name
by which I'd call myself.
So, I shall name myself
and you will be forced to face
the truth denied.

Just as they say:
the rain heavy clouds
look lovely as they crown
my head in lightning.

The high of a zombie melody
played from the grinning skeleton
of the praiseworthy liar.

I'll be that thorn.
I'll be that claw.

Oh, don't cry, I haven't even hurt you
that much.
Haven't even started yet.

Sweetheart, this world
is bowl of candies
and I can choose
the flavor I like.

And so unwrapped.