A Dragon Never Slayed
About chasing the dragon or A not so fragile flower. Maybe a metaphor about female power. Idk whatever you wanna make it.
Have you ever held a poppy bloom?
They break at the seams, they fall to pieces so easily.
They wilt too soon.
Or do they?
That’s what it looks like.
Indeed that’s how it is, if not held with care.
Yet a prince she will make you with her stare
To leave you a pauper long impaired.
Once began the war isn’t fair.
For if you look closely when they tear
There are teeth behind their vibrant maw.
Hidden within thin petals is their claw
What is left
In its seeds?
In such The world is brought upon its knees
People enslaved by the most fragile flower.
An intoxicating hell.
A timeless power
Control beneath its bell.
It’s Rings
It clings.
The rattle of the most silent chains.
Crawling in she is the only thing
That fully takes away such pain
Giving euphoria in its place.
But once this has become your utter need
You find no aches except the need to lay in pleasures grace
For it bears your only
Greed
You realize of her you can never be free.
And pain is now your only strength
And she has made you only weak
And peace you find at any length?
Only in her sight.
no other beauty will you seek
Better to leave the petals as they are
And let them fall in season.
Those of deepened crimson
Find no outward motive nor ulterior reason.
Heal without her
Be without her
Or cherish her growth
And hold what makes her pure and fragile higher.
Know her power, do not toss both within the mire.
Lest her curse be upon you.
Imagine within the most fragile of leaves and petal is the power to enslave millions.
And lasting is its dominance
Waiting within the folds of surreal purity.
The control they exert onto the well known? into obscurity
Watercolor, airbrushed, oiled skin of pure color, blinding.
Lays a soul of passion and heart of fire binding.
Darkness behind sightless eyes.
And this is no secret to the bloom
No new thing they are finding
Yet it quietly implies
Though foolish to assume.
Her finery, alone, is the delicate.
Not so brittle after all, what makes the small floret
Yet knowing the worldly well indeed, all the foliage do.
It sheds its dainty skin in spite of it.
And calmly gives the seeds to you.
To watch you make a monster of her blood.
A powerful drug of her brittle bones
Not only one lesson does the poppy teach us alone.
—C.R.Stanger
2023
Btw I just read all the titles together... that’s brilliant... I feel they sometimes rhyme them..on purpose ? Idk I’m quite dumb at this...I’ve sorta seen but not all.. it’s kinda mean it seems at times.. I try to understand such code..but still fascinating really .. I love that. They sound like a poem together idk if it’s on purpose even
