There was once a weak little sparrow. She has yet to learn to fly, so she fell out of the nest. Little did she know it would keep her alive. In a small stream she drifted on by as the other creatures burned alive, a fire engulfed the forest she once called home. It nipped the edges of the stream burning her wings, as time went by the fire died leaving the entire forest in ash. A lone witch searched the forest with tears in her eyes for any signs of life.
Only to find a lone little bird, barely clinging to life, desperate to survive. So the little witch took the little sparrow home, trying to save its life. Her wings were badly burned, and she would never be able to fly. The witch did what she could and kept the bird alive, but as time went by the sparrow grew sad. Knowing everything was gone, and she was alone as she looked at the burned forest.
Then the little witch had an idea, to try and turn the sparrow human, so they wouldn't feel so alone anymore. She didn't see the agony that would cause the sparrow, and never expected the burn scars would stay. So the little sparrow was turned human, well mostly. The witch has to teach her how to be human, which took many years. Eventually they lived comfortably, enjoying each other's company, but good things never last.
Someone from the nearby village saw the little witch and her small hut. They were suspicious of her, hating anything different from them. They looked disgusted by the other one, the sparrow didn't look like them. Not only that, but they hated the witch and chained the sparrow, forcing her to watch as they burned the witch. They studied the odd girl, wanting to know what she was, why she was different. The torture seemed to never stop, till she finally broke, harnessing the witches power and the life of the ancient forest that was burned. The ancient forest where she was born was burned by the villagers and the magic went into the little sparrow, hoping she would survive.
She went into a fury, slaughtering the village, leaving nothing left of the ones who tortured her, burned her only family alive and destroyed her home. She when she finally calmed, she was on the mountain overlooking the dead forest and decimated village, realizing she was truly alone.

his own & this world's realities are like the fuzz in the States
they're ones to escape, which is a plan of attack
that, like a unit of ammo dispatched
to the bean of a **** autocrat dying physically damaged & sad
hits his deli̲ght-bankrupt brain; like Donald the dung piece, today
he feels bold, so maybe there'll be, like abundance of cake
["bald"]
fortune coming his way
["fortis fortuna adiuvat"/"fortune favors the bold"]
————————————————————————————————
this one's a schmuck thing to say
but this club reminds of Ukraine (what?)
he, like motorized cavalcades from the next-door empire, invades
its territory causing, like unaccommodating writer, a sla[ɛ]m
[Eminem & his "Unaccommodating" song]
as he shuts the door frame; obvi, sO̲me people may
find them bars offensive, like an armed aggression
so my apologies, I'm somewhat ashamed
mainstream house stuff is on play
a thought in his skull: "this is lame"
Michael S. straight after he turned around & stumbled on blamed
Toby F.; through the crowd he cuts like a blade
[the ending of the "Frame Toby" episode cold open from "The Office" series]
having hopped U̲p on the stage
as if it were a narcotic substance you've ta'en
he, so loud as if with his cullions in grave
nU̲t-wrenching pain, bawls: "THIS ****** *****!", like a brace
of someO̲ne's OTKs colored with stains
["*****"; "so[ɑ]cks"]
of blood; a schoolgirl on sO̲me yandere[eɪ]
sh#t; disgruntled, he makes for the f#cking DJ
delivers a verbal punch in his face by the fo[ɑ]llowing phrase:
"boy, go house-sit with your confounded
boring house sh#t, just like a housewyf"
whereafter thrusts him away
ending the uproar with "ciao, drip!"
music-wise, it's gon' go hard as nuts in this place
as if a flock of ones who're deranged
["who're" is supposed to be read/pronounced as "whoor"]
swung by a club in the wake of a ****** **[ɑ]spital break (nuts in this place)
he puts on midtempo dark cyberpunky synthwave
Gesaffelsteinish mid-paced
type of music; that's what drives his crumpet insane
speaking of crumpets, he spots a buxomish babe
while nodding his ******* nut to this cray
music, he feels like a **** being aimed
at, for she stands with her sight, like one of a gun, fixed his way
————————————————————————————————
for a few secs, at each other they gaze
she's quite a fox with her vibrant locks
reminding of flame; somebody call a fire brigade
hourglass-shaped & rigged out in tight pa[ɛ]nts & a blouse
with a U̲-neck, like a fella without
*****, & leaving her waist a bit out
["******"]
on display; he makes his way to this frau
salutates her with "ciao"
she greets him with just the same, then he mouths
the following: "babe, you're way like a house
for lodging that's nowhere to be found
that is, in the deep of a labyrinth"
she's like: "what in the void's name's this about?"
he replies: "I'ma translate that one now"
"the way you look's amazing, ten out
of ten", like that "KleanColor" skin bro[ɑ]nzer
["a maze inn"; "Tan Out Of Tan"]
she makes a soft smile, then replies: "ain't you nice, pal
when you lay your thoughts out?"
"not being nice would be a crime
when you face a fine gal
like you", - he replies
"if so, rejecting the company of a guy so gracious would count"
as a crime too", - she replies
being a music ****** with such a need fO̲r it it's
stuff he cA̲[ɛ]n't live without
the guy asks the gI̲rl if she
is ta'en with this sound
her reply is affirmative
she says she mostly faves underground
kinds of music; they vibe
to these tunes being pU̲t on, just like
that loony sh#twipe the whole antifa community'd like
to see end up ruined, just like
Aleppo or Mariupol; stop, I'd
like, before the main telling resumes, to rewind
a little: the newly-met vibe
to these hard-hitting beats put on; he finds
out, when asking her what drinkable fluid she'd like
to have, that she deems it uncool to imbibe (*****)
he replies: "to tell you the truth, so do I"
so if there's somebody to end up lit during this night
it is the moon in the sky
["some body"]
————————————————————————————————
soon after having their soft drinks taken, they bounce
like the name of the style
of music brought into this wO̲rld heaps
before chicks twerking
blew into the mainstream like "blaow!"
["hips"]
like a sick pervert that digs scourging
while engaged in a bout
of carnal fun, he's got a whip ordered
they wait for several mins for it
finally, the motorized conveyance comes out
like a deb girlie
[debutante]
he trails this fox like she's prey to hunt down
watching her proceed to[–]ward it
in a way like she's on a catwalk waving around
a rig splurgy
having hopped in it, to a lodging place they set out
the saucy look in her eyes
once his palm is put on her thigh
a kind of luminous sign–
–board reading: "absolutely alright
with going on a lewd spree tonight"

winter slowly digests me
it's hard to process
standing in the spaces
between the void of pain and
the void of ecstasy
(any void is just the unbearability
of fullness)
no violin can invent
some tears
my eyes not split
searching for
a tree-womb
to shelter my skin
and slow my cells
to the decency
of breathing,
to unearth
the old tale
gently
like an offering

Fairies knit tales, but they don’t have tails, I don’t think.  
Dog’s do.
Long,
with an abrupt end – that’s usually moving,
while never escaping its tether.
Is that the idea? – that no matter how far the tail goes,
it will never get out of hand.
Unless it’s docked of course – that is the saddest tail,
a stump of a tail that still tries its best,
but is destined for a short and disappointing end.

If I were a dog without a tail, I think I’d think it was the end of the world.

If I were a fairy without a tale – I would be sadder still.

The End.

i am someone's story. in one person's tale, i am the girl who plays the role of the comic relief. the one who makes people laugh and smile, as well as providing humor. in one another person’s storyline, i am the main lead, bringing to life all of those desired characteristics. in another's eyes, i may be the wise sage who gives guidance at critical stages in their lives. however, when i stop to think about it, i find that i am the antagonist in someone else's plot. the bad guy, to be precise. and no matter how hard i try to change my ways, the reality is that i am who i am to them, and in certain situations, there is nothing i can do to change it. in their book of life, i am the arrogant evil villain.

but then you came. everything changed when you walked into my life out of nowhere. you appeared in my life like a shooting star and filled my heart with bliss. and i've never felt safer or vibrant than i do when i'm around you. not once in my life have i felt so alive. it seemed as if you were unveiling new layers of greatness to me with each passing moment. i've never seen that much gentleness in a lone soul before. in the shadows, you were gently carving out a space for yourself in my heart without me even realizing it.

you embraced my grief as if it were your own and showed me love as no one else ever could. everytime i felt like i was on the verge of falling, you stayed with me. when i was weak, you were my pillar of support. when i needed someone to weep on, you were there for me. because of your smile, i was able to make my existence on this planet worthwhile. for a long time, it seemed impossible to feel so connected to someone. however, it is quite simple to feel intertwined with you. i can't tell you how good it makes me feel. i've began to realize that i had no idea what it felt like to be truly loved until i met you.

You will be created as a product of a fairy tale,

I will weave you of flowers and rhyme,

without father and mother you will wail,

the Child of dreams is your name for this time.



I will know you by the tapping of the rain,

and you will be like the mystic herself,

queen of the empire, sometimes and thane,

a bandit girl, but more often the elf.



You'll know how to play in the mud,

like a country girl, and so beautiful,

in the Great War you will be scud,

you will always be simple, immutable.



And you will never, never leave me,

no matter how angry fate has befallen us,

a picture of a holy woman you will be

to the end of the road without discuss.



Then I will give everyone a free hand,

there will be no chase not even after me,

misfortunes and torments will be manned

and someone else will give fairy tales humanity.

This is a tale about a tale
that had no end

A tale of the tale
of what was then

It went on forever
from wherever

but none knows when