the lily pads

taking off the crown and returning the lion's mane cape, i can no longer avoid the reality: i am simply green and mucus-ridden. but that is life and while i may have found the raiment warm and comforting, they were not made to fit me.

alas, i've accepted my place amongst the lily pads and understand that i'm no longer your prince. while i may still speak in a prince's full regalia, i cannot deny these webbed toes and potruding eyes.

so i'll submit and croak and hop away, crossing log and pond into the swampy deep. but promise that i'll have a place in your pocket so i may whisper words into your ear and catch the bugs before they sting you.

but for now, i'll leave you one last whisper: good luck. i hope you'll find your prince. remember that i love you and always will.

mosaic

i envy the empty because they can always begin anew. while the hollowness hurts, only time passes before something refills the vessel.

on the other hand, i am broken, shattered. i am the millions of pieces of what i once was. the empty are lucky: they can be refilled while the shattered bleed anew, being filled up with the brokenness they are from the inside.

so what can i do? remain immobile. out of fear of being hurt, i move neither here nor there.

but that is a static life, a perpetual state of mourning. these pieces are not to be mourned over, but rather, used to create something new.

it takes the brave hand to grasp each shard and fear not the blood and torn flesh. a patient hand to craft and place them. a loving hand to direct the work of art into something glorious.

i've already started. my hands are raw but i can't stop now or i'll bleed to death.

i hope what i've created when i'm done with the pieces will be worthy of the glass sculpture that stood before it.

crescendo

from upstairs, my mother's painful sobs shake the ceiling above me and slice me right into my core.

she's reacting. there's a thud and some more sobs. shriek. crescendo. her voice is sharp and hysterical like shattering china.

i don't hear my dad's voice. i never do. but i know he's in there. trying to get her to calm down.

i don't want to know what happened this time because i already do know what happened. i can't fix it.

i just want to get the fuck out of here now.