a little myth.

 Once I was alone. 

Sleeping in a rosebud, 

with my legs curled up to my chest.

 Now I am here.

Suddenly the crickets stop chirping, 

the wind stops howling 

and quietness comes from my beating heart in a small box. 

Soon I will be mowed into the ground. 

Left to rot with the magic that no one believes in anymore.