A/N: I know that poetry is never well-received in the world of fanfiction. But I'm a poet, you see, more than anything else, and it's hard to keep myself from writing this stuff sometimes - harder still to keep myself from sharing it.

Please review. I'd really love it if you would.

Fairytales

She pulls herself inward and extends herself out;

threads the needle through her skin

and pats a paper bandage on top of it;

all healed, she whispers to herself

and the world nods in assent, quietly

turning, churning on its axis;

Africa is a world away and two steps outside her bedroom door

but she's locked it, bolted, hid the key within her pillowcase

and the ceaseless knocking cannot rock her

from the bed.

Not now.

But the wisps of sand come skittering through the keyhole,

every now and again.

She drinks whiskey and eyes herself in a polished mirror.

Nothing changes.

There is no breakdown, no collapse within the framework,

no fetal position and no knight

in shining armor riding up into her lawn

on some gilded white horse;

not every maiden needs a hero –

though some of them need rescuing, every now and again.

Three men in jeans and cargos, smudged with sand,

bruised and beaten, grin like angels on her eyelids;

there are no white knights, only colleagues

beloved and faulted and human.

She never really needed a knight.

Empty glass bottles

tumble like glaciers on a mound of paperwork in the corner.

Faces on facets – all hers – staring up from the belly of the bin.

All Healed! they each proclaim

and the little jewels of alcohol nestled in their emptiness

are all agreeing.

The scars fade; the feeling never leaves.

In a chasm of the world somewhere, an age ago,

the archetype of defiance stood their ground

behind a wall.

She always thought herself their kin;

nothing changes.

Steel-wielding Romans couldn't take away their claim,

couldn't shake them,

and the scene is different and the world is different

and some whisper of regret in her skull keeps bleating,

would never let myself be captured

alive,

but she runs the water from the tap,

splashes her face and sees her eyes like drops of oil from the faucet.

And nothing really changes.

A/N: Recent studies suggest that every time you leave a review, the gesture reduces your carbon footprint by about 30 GHA. So let's all save the planet! Yeah?