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.
