Tiger in Her Den
the monsters of adulthood. the stories of childhood. which one matters? which one is you?
I look in the mirror and a monster looks back at me
She grins, running her thick tongue over her sharpened teeth
Sharpened specially for them
The others
Outside of the mirror
Sharpened for herself
Make the scars clearer
Always different, never afraid to bite
Who would she be, if she couldn't fight?
The monster knows what she is
A vessel of anger
An embodiment of abuse
Nothing but a sleeping dragon
Fueled by fire, fueled by liars
Nothing but the fragments glued together
Using blood from other people’s teeth
Veins spilling, she'll give love a pass
She grows her wings, tilts her horns, scrapes her nails against the cracking glass
That is what I see
I’ve created so many monsters at the age of twenty
I look in the mirror and a little yellow-haired girl looks back at me
She smiles, showing her crooked baby teeth
She won’t pull on the loose one
She doesn’t like to see blood
The little girl knows herself well enough
The boyish clothes would never change
She could run, she could chase
Her favourite place to play, the dying apple tree
Her favourite place to hide, the den where she was stung by a bee
Her favourite colour, the red of her bedroom wall
Her favourite story, skeleton detectives standing tall
Always different, never afraid to fall
She is a rockstar
An adventurer
A writer
A tiger
A fighter
A racer
A dragon-slayer
Nothing but the fragments of words picked up by her favourite books
Is this what she will be when she grows up?
Nothing but a person built from the tiger cub
When her teeth aren’t crooked
When her teeth are fully grown
That is what I used to see
Worlds filled with possibilities
Eyes in the mirror creating them vividly
My horns and wings shrink in
The darkness begins to dwindle
She climbs her way to the front
Knowing this is who she truly is
That is what I see
A heart bursting with stories, love and light
Her laugh, a sun shining bright
Why hide her away?
The girl who stands in my memory
Waiting to tell you about her dreams
Who she'd like to be (it can be anything, truly)
The tiger in her den
I’ve created so many places at the age of ten
The monster would give anything to be there again.
That is what she is
Created by her own pen
About the Creator
jessica moonan davies
in a world of my own🐇
20.
obsessed with alice in wonderland, remus lupin, space, and anything mythical or gothic
Enjoyed the story? Support the Creator.
Subscribe for free to receive all their stories in your feed. You could also pledge your support or give them a one-off tip, letting them know you appreciate their work.
Keep reading
More stories from jessica moonan davies and writers in Poets and other communities.
Please Bite Me
Would it be wrong if I couldn’t ever be happy here? Would it be wrong if I never wanted to stay? Would it be wrong to always be alone? Would it be wrong to never feel a thing? Would it be wrong to say I am always thinking of more? Would it be wrong if I wanted to feel hunted? Wanted.* Would it be wrong if I said I was fucking jealous? Would it be wrong to want to feel held? Would it be wrong to be held like that? Would it be wrong if I said I didn’t want it to be right? Would it still be okay if I didn’t fight? Would it be wrong to find comfort in the shade of a beast? In the shadow of a monster?I want to be hunted for my blood. Would it be wrong to want their teeth? Would it be wrong to blink and be covered up in the dark? Would it be wrong to lie down for hours? Would it be wrong to be carried to bed by something I should fear? Would it be wrong to be held by a darkness that lingers? Would it be wrong to befriend the thing that haunts me? Would it be wrong to say I don’t want it to leave me? Would it be wrong If I wanted him to know nothing but my name? To keep me warm and put clawed paws around me? Would it even make it go away? Would it even make the record play? Would it even help the way I thought it might? Would it even happen, would I even know? Would it? Would it? Would it bite me hard enough I never think again?
By jessica moonan davies7 months ago in Poets
Comments (2)
This was extremely relatable! Red is my favorite colour too and I loved blood, lol! I resonated so deeply with your poem!
The pen is mightier than the sword. Lovely poem. Rather empowering, in a way.