I have a dragon inside me.
I have a dragon inside of me. Most of the time she’s asleep, snoring quietly. Snoring away. I still feel her though…like a purring cat, except her heart is not warm and safe. It is dangerous and hot.
When the dragon wakes up she burns me. Pouring flames from my mouth that blister my lips. She flames towards those who I love the most. Angry lava that burns them… causing them to draw back in fear and in pain.
I have a dragon inside me. She’s asleep most of the time. She stirs occasionally. She stirs when the dishes aren’t done. She stirs when sleep is lacking. She stirs when he’s absently present. She stirs when my stomach is empty of food and my mind is full of fear.
I have a dragon inside of me. Sometimes I try and tell myself she’s my friend. That she’s a pet. A pleasant companion. A guard dog. Yet the horror on my loved ones’ faces shows me that my ‘pet’ is truly a monster. And monsters don’t make good pets.
I have a dragon inside of me. She’s dangerous. Sometimes I can feel her waking up in moments of tension. She begins to stir in the silence of a question wrongly answered. Although, it wasn't a wrongly answered question. It was just not a liked answer.
I have a dragon inside of me. When she wakes up she is always angry. She’s always loud. She’s always vicious and violent. I cannot kill my dragon. There is no knight that can slay her. No one can come close due to the flames. All I can do is pray she stays asleep. She used to sleep for years at a time, but lately she sleeps sparingly. She wakes more and more; she burns brighter and brighter, ravenously devouring the world around me, delighting as the world goes up in flames.
I have a dragon inside of me. Sometimes, I like to pretend she’s there to protect me. But she doesn’t. All she does is burn me and those I love.