am a dragon
who breathes no fire. Only breathing in
the anxieties that come with being alive
as targeted prey
of an unborn hero. My dreams: shelved, hoarded
but never expanded
upon as each day grows more tense, wondering
will be my last
before the hero slays me. I slumber
with no eyes closed
and my ears buried
beneath the canvas
of treasure – the fields of cuddly
toys, their necks:
eyes dried blind by sleepless nights
and the fear
of death itself. I don’t want to be
or the footnote
to someone else’s glory, that of murdering a being
for my body – its appearance is not human and its stature
most fearful to those of the flesh.
I am a dragon
who breathes not fire, but the i-
-cy cinders of panic, those chills
one’s spine, the highwaymen
of life that steal
from me any sense of dignity. My heart wains
with an unstable passion, desires
spark within its most
but they won’t kindle my breath.
in a fear
of the hero
who’s not yet born.
I am a dragon who breathes no fire
but has the armour plating,
the strength that conquers over
that of a fleshy hero.
I am a dragon who desires to live
and even without
my breath, I won’t
from any hero.
I am a dragon who has no breath, but I’ll continue to live
to spite the unborn hero
to screech apart the mountains
with the breath
of a determined soul.