⛧🜏⚧ ᏗᏋᏕᏰᏋᏖᏂ ⚧🜏⛧

the dragon embodies vice, the old priest said,
pride and avarice and wrath -

but to a downtrodden young girl,
trapped under a mask of a boy -

pride sounded not like a failing,
but instead a treasure forever out of her reach.

but, that girl was stronger than she knew,
and she grew stronger still, even through trial.

and through time, and friendship, and love,
she lit the dormant fire within -

sharpened her claws, ripped off the mask,
and finally, finally spread her wings.

her hoard may be small,
her horns still-growing stubs,

but, she is no less a wyrm,
and the world would hear her roar.

no more hiding
no more shame

no more shall she ever
wear that mask again

and as the wind fills her wings
and she takes to the sky

tears of joy streak down her scales
for at last, finally, she is

her true self.

and with every passing day
her horns grow a little, her scales harden,

slowly does coalesce the shape
of the great beast she truly is

and behind those slitted eyes
is a spark of pure unbridled joy

of finding now, a once-missing piece
of spreading wings never before unbound,

she stops feeling shame
for her growls and her desires,

for her roar
is not born from shame,

but a golden, pure-hearted
pride in who she is