there was a boy with scars once
he had anger
years of red hot gum stuck in his furnace of teeth
the mirror of his mouth protecting his soul
like thread knotted
twisting
twisting
s n a p .
he punched the mirror
and the glass fangs swallowed his heart
there was a child made of flowers once
the fangs are still embedded in their ribcage,
but now flowers grow from their scars,
sedum and chrysanthemums
sprouting for all to see
but every morning,
the flowers are carefully glued on,
so the scars underneath don't exist
once, there was a girl made of thorns
she glides on the wind,
the forest echoing her name
(because there was always someone calling)
she comes and goes,
a child of the road
never a home, always a house
once upon a time, the girl made of thorns and the child made of flowers were one,
and the thorns taught the flowers to take pride in their scars,
as the flowers taught the thorns to push back the glass monsters,
(but leave the fangs so you never forget)
