07-11-2013, 08:00 PM
Half a stone’s throw down a narrow hall
and across the room at the other end
is a door to a place, a lair I’m sure
where a dragon lays his head.
It is definitely some sort of mystical monster,
a shape-shifter that simply doesn’t reveal
an appearance consistent with its terrifying nature
yet I assure you the dragon is real.
Tales of dragons in legends describe
nostrils blasting fire with each angry breath
villages and all their inhabitants
scorched ‘till there’s nothing left.
But the dragon that lurks down the hall in my life
has never expressed a visible flame,
yet I shudder at times when in the dragon’s eyes
I see the inferno rage.
And though it never leaves physical evidence
of razor sharp claws that adorn its feet,
my heart has been slashed when its eyes flash fire
cuts both long and deep.
Yes, I tremble at the visage of a mortal man
for I know certainly it is just a disguise
and in its presence I have learned how I must behave
to quell the fire that rages in its eyes.
The dragon compels me to face that which I fear
squared up, without detectable fret.
It expects my voice to be strong and steady
my eyes narrowed and never wet.
It insists I ask questions that need to be asked
and risk a response I wouldn’t like;
I can sense it is always evaluating my inclination
to stand my ground or run from a fight.
I was once miserable knowing what the dragon expects
and too fearful not to do what it wants
I longed to be free of the dragon’s domain
to turn from scary things and run.
It is a great burden to know what I know
and keep silent for fear of being called a fool,
because I am certain were I to disclose my secret
I would be subject to much ridicule.
You see the dragon doesn’t disclose his nature
to others in my world,
as a matter of fact he only appears
if I act like a scared little girl.
Life would be so much more pleasant and comfortable
were I permitted to live confrontation free,
to avoid anything that makes me feel awkward or intimidated,
to just be as I would like to be.
But the dragon, the bane of my existence,
watches with jaundiced eye
and insures I am more scared of its wretched wrath
then circumstances that would make me cry.
So I do what I must and act with courage,
sometimes courage I didn’t know I had.
I do it because the dragon is always present
masquerading as a mortal man.
You might think I pray for a prince to arrive
to face the dragon and take his head,
but that really wouldn’t work out so well
my dad loves me and I don’t want him dead.
and across the room at the other end
is a door to a place, a lair I’m sure
where a dragon lays his head.
It is definitely some sort of mystical monster,
a shape-shifter that simply doesn’t reveal
an appearance consistent with its terrifying nature
yet I assure you the dragon is real.
Tales of dragons in legends describe
nostrils blasting fire with each angry breath
villages and all their inhabitants
scorched ‘till there’s nothing left.
But the dragon that lurks down the hall in my life
has never expressed a visible flame,
yet I shudder at times when in the dragon’s eyes
I see the inferno rage.
And though it never leaves physical evidence
of razor sharp claws that adorn its feet,
my heart has been slashed when its eyes flash fire
cuts both long and deep.
Yes, I tremble at the visage of a mortal man
for I know certainly it is just a disguise
and in its presence I have learned how I must behave
to quell the fire that rages in its eyes.
The dragon compels me to face that which I fear
squared up, without detectable fret.
It expects my voice to be strong and steady
my eyes narrowed and never wet.
It insists I ask questions that need to be asked
and risk a response I wouldn’t like;
I can sense it is always evaluating my inclination
to stand my ground or run from a fight.
I was once miserable knowing what the dragon expects
and too fearful not to do what it wants
I longed to be free of the dragon’s domain
to turn from scary things and run.
It is a great burden to know what I know
and keep silent for fear of being called a fool,
because I am certain were I to disclose my secret
I would be subject to much ridicule.
You see the dragon doesn’t disclose his nature
to others in my world,
as a matter of fact he only appears
if I act like a scared little girl.
Life would be so much more pleasant and comfortable
were I permitted to live confrontation free,
to avoid anything that makes me feel awkward or intimidated,
to just be as I would like to be.
But the dragon, the bane of my existence,
watches with jaundiced eye
and insures I am more scared of its wretched wrath
then circumstances that would make me cry.
So I do what I must and act with courage,
sometimes courage I didn’t know I had.
I do it because the dragon is always present
masquerading as a mortal man.
You might think I pray for a prince to arrive
to face the dragon and take his head,
but that really wouldn’t work out so well
my dad loves me and I don’t want him dead.