Inside, I'm a Dragon
- Elizabeth Frank

- Nov 1
- 1 min read

I nod, I apologize, I always smile. I string everyone
along with gentle love, so they’ll never leave.
I make sure they like what they see.
But I want to lash out, bend bars, break
the cage. I have captured myself
for too long, tamped down all flame and thorn.
Niceness is a skirt I no longer fit.
I refuse to zip myself in.
I want to be beautiful in my anger,
like an avalanche. I want to be beautiful in my resistance,
like a granite slab. I want to be beautiful
in my self-centeredness, like a rooted tree.
I want to make art bigger than rooms—I want
to make rooms big enough to contain
all my spirit. I want to blaze.





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