Once upon a time
Once upon a time, They mistook me for a story. Something to be edited until it became easier to read, Passed from one careful hand to another Until my truth no longer sounded like my own voice, Until the silence between their questions Said more than any answer I could have given. I knew stories long before I knew what fear could inherit. I carried them into classrooms Where children sat cross-legged on borrowed afternoons, Still convinced dragons announced themselves with smoke, That wolves always looked like wolves, And every lost child eventually found the path home. We read as though endings were promises. We believed enough kindness could rescue anyone. We believed that people were good. Perhaps I believed it most. I thought monsters could be defeated. If you were good. No one warned me that monsters could wear borrowed smiles And decide which stories deserve a sequel. I thought truth possessed its own gravity, That it would always land where it belonged, Tha...