If own scars. Till the next brave knight comes

If Dragons Can Talk

 

Shiny,

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Piles of
gold coins to be counted—

The source
of my sins.

 

Surrounded
by roaring waters,

You are trapped
on your islands,

Fed by
lies of your elders.

 

Like moths
fliting towards fire,

You hear
coins colliding in your dreams

But not
our sobbing behind every strike at beach.

 

Under the
land I’m standing upon

Lies my
father

And his
father before.

 

Here’s
where I can stay:

in the ultimate
darkness, in a tunnel under rocky cliffs,

Next to the
rising sea, holding my own scars.

 

Till the
next brave knight comes in

To bring
home the wealth;

To be
celebrated.

 

I
am waiting for

Another
soon-to-be legend in human history,

A bloody story
written on my cropped head. 

 

A shadow
sways

Upon branches,

Like giggling
children playing hide and seek.

 

Warm beams
breaking through the leaves,

Scattering

On my buried
broken wings.