Dragon Tale

Short of stature
scales of a light pinkish hue
with a shriveled organ dangling between
his face more like a pigs
hands – bony claws
wings that flapped proud
madly beating the air
but impotent
when it came to getting aloft
not a great looking specimen
to be sure
he possessed none of the majesty, grace or daring-do
the dragons of the ancient tales bore
but make no mistake
for a dragon he was
drooling acid and venom
belching clouds of noisome black smoke
spitting here and there a stray spark
but most of all hording gold
and hating everyone but himself
his name – Grolpa
which in high Dragonese
meant “anti-social drama queen,”
it was not a proud appellation
yet it certainly suited him well
society he despised
where friends and neighbors gathered
he sought destruction
parks closed, libraries reduced to rubble
if there was any better sight for his eyes
than a condominium development
where children once laughed and played,
then he had no idea what it was
a vain, pale, porcine dragon
where people were hungry
there he was to mock their pangs
where people were sick
there he was to watch them die
he liked them sick and dying
he liked them underpaid and overworked
he liked them without recourse
doomed to a life of grim acceptance
and that’s how the people lived
day after day after year after century
on and on they went
accepting their lot
because what else was there for it
dragons are dragons
and dragons are how dragons have always been
and will remain
lest from amongst the people
a dragonslayer arises
to do the job the voters are unable


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