broken bird

o, a fiend in king’s armor,

o, a scoundrel in golden plating,

o, a wounded gazelle’s gambit,

your cries fall upon deaf ears,

i have no sympathy for your tears,

for each glance you give me ills me--

my head and heart pangs, and yet,

i feel no opposition to my departure,

i feel no sympathy for you, monster,

a wolf in star-crossed clothing,

i’ve fallen sick and loathing,

cast your crown from the ground

look me in the eyes, o king,

look me in the eyes and see--

see the scar you’ve left, feel sorry,

but do not say you are, for,

your voice alone is enough to make me vomit--

your touch alone, the memory alone, the distant call of your arms makes me sick now--

while i’d kill to run into a pair of comforting arms, into somewhere i can call home and somewhere i can call safe, there’s not a place i can call that now--

there’s not a soul i can turn to, not a hope i can grasp, not a heart that can beat--so where i stand, piloting my life and piloting away from here, piloting away from you as tears pour down my face like an untamed river, animalistic noises choking from my throat, outing myself as a creature, outing as a pathetic wretch--

though by a longshot, never as pathetic as you--i will never be as pathetic as you were when your fist struck my face and staggered me, and i will never be as pathetic as you were when you were begging me to listen and begging me to stay as i throw my belongings together, i will never be as pathetic as you were when you tried to climb aboard my ship and tried to rush to me before i could go, and i will never be as pathetic as the look on your face when i pushed you; and, of course, perhaps i should feel guilty, but am i truly a villain when i say i don’t feel a damn thing for you? am i truly a villain when i say you deserve to fall and deserve to break? am i a villain when you swung first? o, fiend in king’s armor, o scoundrel in golden plating, look at me now--look at me, and i’ll dare you to call me faulted, i’ll dare you to call me a villain, i’ll dare you to call me wrong--run along and run off to your treasures, to your treasure, that knight you keep gawking at--that knight you kept staring at as i had my arms around you, right at the table--don’t think i didn’t see that longing in your eyes, that fire you could never hope to stifle--and dare i say i hope you don’t hit that one?--i hope you’re happy, with your broken limbs and broken ribs, as you hit the ground, as you watch me fly away, for this broken bird refuses to ever cast his gaze to you again.