You had a crown once.
A dusty crown, maybe,
Made of tarnished car parts and rusty bolts and held together with duct tape,
But a crown nonetheless.
You had a sword once;
An ax.
It shown in the sun and your crown never even wobbled.
I have a crown, too, in my chest.
I don't wear it on my head like you did,
I slipped it under my skin;
Around my ribs.
It pinions my wings to my back and restricts my lungs when I breath deep.
That's why I took your dusty crown,
I took it and put it on my head.
I know you won't mind when you notice.
I have my own crown, now,
And yours
And some days I hold my sister's in my hand.
I grip it tight, but it's not a sword;
It's not an ax,
But I'll keep it safe for her.
Keep your crown safe for you.
