Sucking Through A Strawberry Straw
Strawberry stories at a summers end
quickly turn sour at the touch of spoiled milk. The sun
slowly setting
as the end of new beginnings die
untimely, yet buds still bloom
in nearby kingdom's gardens. Stories of romantic gestures
and knights atop steeds ride into sunsets,
curdle and die
as they drip from tongues of
damsels saved by damsels no longer
in towers. Warm drinks
meant to soothe the minds of
young girls, not yet dreaming,
have turned room temperature and left
to fester in its mess. A woman, entangled
between the teeth in the seething mouth of a dragon whose aim
is to singe the spirits of those
who try to raise their voices. "You shall not toil
my attempts for serenity!" the knightress
dressed in metal
shall scream for the children, woken
from the stench of spoiled dreams,
milky sunsets,
warped and spoon-fed by sickened realities.
Those twisted tales of "heroes"
suited in scales
avert girls' attentions to bitter truths;
knights won't scale towers,
slay dragons of unimaginable heights,
or kiss you to soothe your soured dreams. So,
descend your towers they so carefully built,
snuff out your steel dragons with a single swift blow,
sing your lullabies to those children far off of new,
soothing sunsets
and strawberry milk.