Little Serpent

[ry0un0suke]

Late Winter 1754

Tell me, I would love to know- Is every thought one of agony? When you sit down and truly ponder it all, you're alone? Can you feel that severe and line across your neck? It's faint, so faint it's as thought it is not present but present it is. I've taken blades, scissors into hands that do not hold and cut them all off. It's a move that should have been played more fervently in a banal concept that has brought me nothing but loathe. There are roles in life we play, pieces in the puzzling idea of humanity that I've both separated from and also been ripped away from. Can I say, truthfully, that I don't miss the warmth? The laughter? The late night chitter-chatter? Petty squabbles? An idea of something... more and beyond what is my now and present? 
 
No.
 
Applying costume to behavior and nature into a tale where I had no place. The role of Knight had been taken, Princess, Dragon. What remained for me? I put makeup onto my face, a forced attitude that became natural in order to survive in a story not my own. Such was a tale of a Knight and a Princess and I will never be looked at in that manner. No matter how I make myself appear, the attempts made to join this tale as a role within the background but...
 
I could never be content with something like that.
 
Look at me.
Come to me.
There is makeup upon my face, color lined upon my lips so words have a better appeal, flush on pale cheeks so I'm gazed upon but no effort put forth truly matter. 

I am not royalty.
 
When put outside I think it's safe to say that I'm more than contempt to no longer being a part of a strung narrative not for me. So, a blade slid along every single one of their throat. In a sense, it's in preparation for what is yet to be, what is to come. Repulsive- I will show them it. Possessive- They'll see it. Obsessive- It'll be felt from miles. Ugly- Even with lips coated in an alluring color. Though... it matters naught anymore. Where I am...
 
Rivals all that I could have been should I have stooped to that tale they write. 
 
Steer clear then, for your sake. Come too close, look too hard and it will grow difficult to breath. Like bones crush together and the body's squeezed. Hard to see, hard to think, fangs sink into your very flesh. I've figured it out, I am within that tale. Though not a Dragon, nor Knight, nor Princess.
 
But a vile Serpent with a tint and taint upon my lips.