In Service to the Story

What are we even doing? Slinking back and forth on the same street talking sweet, sweet

Nothing in particular as the sun sets pale in comparison to

Your eyes the color of roses hiding thorns that slither through my

Scars searching for secrets and weakness.

There’s a reason someone like you wants something like me.

The story is nothing without the damsel and the monster.

I guess you’re waiting for the prince.

So then fuck you.

You thinking you can sensually bat your eyes with your birdsong voice full of pretty

Lies like I don’t see the poison in your poise.

Fuck your friends sinking their teeth in our sorrows to satisfy their emptiness.

Did they dare you to do this to take one for the team?

Fuck society for forcing us into molds, then tossing those who aren’t suited to the scraps as

You squeeze in, but do you struggle to be perceived as flawless?

Are you satisfied? Is there anything I can do?

I’m so sorry. But not really.

Not really.