"The Princess and the Dragon"

I built the tower, stone by stone, With trembling hands and quiet rage. No curse, no spell, no iron gate— Just fear turned mortar, shame the cage.

Outside, the roses tried to bloom, But I wove thorns into their bed. I could not bear their fragile grace, So let their petals rot instead.

They came with swords and softened eyes, The noble hearts, the earnest men. But every time, I breathed too deep— And burned them with my truth again.

They called me witch, they called me wild, They couldn’t see I was afraid. Afraid to break, afraid to need, Afraid of what my hands had made.

The mirror holds no helpless girl— Just scales beneath a velvet gown. A flicker curled behind the eyes, A flame I thought I’d long stamped down.

Did I lock out the world, or worse— Lock in the storm I could not tame? The thorns, the ash, the wilted bloom— Were all of them born from my name?

So let them tell their tales of me, Of love that tried and couldn’t stay. I wear my ruin like a crown, And burn each would-be savior away.