Studio8 - Uniting the Arts

Alone, I enter the lair of the dragon
his eyes aflame, anger his fuel
clutching his treasure in taloned hands
Me unarmed, unprepared for this duel

He writhes with displeasure, that I can see
his scaly back in iridescent peacock colors
then he asks me a question I feel I must answer
“Why the smile?” and thus I grow a bit smaller

“Because I am positive!” I answer with love
it seem that does not satisfy his demanding request
his anger smolders, his tongue whips me aside
and his heart beats hard and cold in his chest

“You are so small, insignificant to me…”
he growls and preens, and seems not to care
and still I stand up, and cast him a glance
it seems this small me has it in her to dare

“I see that your anger has driven you mad”
I say with a bravado, altho I am scared
“I AM NOT MAD AT YOU SMALL THING!”
the smell of his embers and smoke fills the air

“Then Whom is making you angry and in such a huff?”
squeaking out the words that may be my last
“I AM ANGRY AT MYSELF!” the dragon at once replies
and I am taken aback by the force of the blast

I realize then what had scared me so much
the beast was in pain, wounded with scars
of so many years, so many battles being fought
his heart was encased in many iron bars

Soothing the beast was not my forte
being in contact with a great angry dragon who reigned
pillaging my soul, raping my mind with those angry hungers
it was easy to see his lined face with tears stained

The Tale of The Angry Dragon is yet to be told
he lives inside of his own rock walled castle
way down in the darkness of his mind and soul
the anger is something he has yet to grapple

I go on my way, a path awaits outside in the sun
that dragon is something I can cogitate daily
but I have my own wounds to nurse and to heal
this me wants to go on and to live life gaily

Let sleeping angry dragons lie in their lairs
don’t poke them or expect them to rise
or take wing when really, they cannot or will not fly
so take it from me... you’ll be consumed otherwise!