Indecision

Deep cracks and dark spots on the pale yellow wall

Steeped in blood, right in the middle

No, a little tilted towards left, not right enough

One can see a fine pearl embedded Mirror

Luxurious, rich but now the colour of rubies.

 

The mirror tells a story.

A fairy tale! Oh, did I say a fairy tale?

It’s a beast’s narrative.

Or is it both? Indeed, it is

A fairy tale gone wrong.

And it is a monster-tale

Not monstrous enough.

 

Hence, there it lies hung on a pale yellow wall.

No, that is not blood. Those are actual emotions.

Anger, anguish, frustration absorbed by the delicate pearls.

No monster lives here; no fairy can live here either.

That was all a story, a made-up story.

I feel guilty, I am sorry.




Sequel

Did I say it was a story?
Did I say it was a cooked up story?
Did I say I am guilty or that I am sorry?
I take my words back.
The evil returned with tripled power,
While the little child was believing
that love would perhaps melt the evil beasts.

It always was a monstrous tale.
Will it always remain so?