Raven's wing, eye of crow
I will not, will not let you grow
Half of starfish, tortoise shell
Your empty praise could build a hell
Spinnerets, rattlesnake's sting
I won't let you reverse everything
Hair of lion, tiger's tail
I won't let your hate prevail
Piranha's teeth, mermaid's tongue
How is it that showers from everyone
Of affirmations and sweetest words
are flown away and gone like birds
I try to snatch and cling to truth
But you, of false tongue and tooth
Fling them aside without a glance
And now I'm struggling to regain my chance
at happiness. No matter the many
embraces and hearts that went out of their way
to tell you how far I've come today
You say they are lying. That fucks me up.
Now it's darkening, too late to nap
And now I'm struggling in waters low
Too shallow, too shallow
My nimble fingers turn to clipped feathers
And all of the love that tries to wash over me
Just slides right off, evaporates into hazy dream
What was that about proud and phenomenal and possible?
What was that about awe and achievement and ability?
"They were just saying that."
Clip. Clip. Clip.
I won't let you ruin words for me.
Ellen Huang is a writer of fairy tales and horror, finding solace in both genres for surprisingly similar reasons. She has recently made a huge life transition, with deep gratitude for the compassion of friends and the help of therapy. She holds a BA in Writing and a minor in Theatre from Point Loma Nazarene University, and has pieces published/forthcoming in over 40 venues, including peculiars, Thimble Lit, Moonchild Magazine, Sirens Call, Amethyst Review, Royal Rose, Three Drops from a Cauldron, Awkward Mermaid, As I Am, and Gingerbread House. Follow her creative work here: worrydollsandfloatinglights.wordpress.com.