of people and beasts

      Dear Prince,       they hate you. Now, at this moment, but they exclude “then” for some reason; actually, thinking of it, they suddenly decide that, yeah, you were not worthy of their love even “then”.       Tis you, who fought for their lives; tis you, who lost your head for their sake; tis you, who fell in love with their Hope — what have you done?       You just turned into a dragon.       So what? You are a dragon, big deal. You’re huge, and shiny, and your heart — the one Hope used to steal for her peculiar fun — your heart is now hidden under the rough skin, and no one can reach it.       Not even you.              Dear Prince,       or should I say “Dragon”? I do not know; I’ll wait till you steal a princess or get yourself a pile of gold — until then, you’re my Prince.       But you’d disagree, won’t you?       They’ve convinced both you and themselves that everything has changed: “He wants no more of our Hope? What a lunatic! He can’t just refuse her!”       You nod: “Cannot”, but there's more that you want.       You want to stab her chest with the sharpest shard of your heart — the one you gave away a long time ago — but you simply say: “You won’t do it again”, and walk out, with your cape made out of northern wind.       While leaving, some memories passed you.       One of how weirdly your heart began to beat, greenish and even like it was real, when you first saw her. Another — of how it disappeared from your chest and stayed in Hope’s patch pocket. How it cracked with a light touch of her glassy lips, how it was pierced thousands of times, how it was shattered and glued back together again and again and again.       Still, you were their Prince, and no one dared to doubt it.       Not even you. Until one day these shards bit you — all at once, right into the void you have on your left and below — and suddenly…

you were a dragon.