The sand falls through my fingers, creating a dust to make me sneeze.
The warm grains trail down, almost like a desert waterfall.
This time, this time, I’ll really build an Egyptian pyramid.
This time, this time, I’ll have done something really cool for once.
This dry, sandy corner of the playground is my domain. None would dare enter.
“She’s too ugly, she has germs,” the mutters and guffaws blare out. “What a loser.”
Others dig trenches and holes to China, but no one builds. They would rather destroy.
A handful of sand is emptied, and I have a molehill.
But a mountain must be made.
The walls around my kingdom must fall.
But they only grow taller as my pyramid is scooped away by a dirty white sneaker.
My eyes burn, even as I try to blink the tears away.
My castle has been breached, even though I try to keep my gates open.
The grainy remains of a dream cling to my dirty hair and stick to underneath my fingernails.
The assailants stomp away, knowing that an alarm will never be raised.
The surrounding village is corrupt, no one will care.
This time, this time, things won’t change.
This time, this time, words are just another weapon.
Learning how to be alone? I had learned that from the start,
And I began to contemplate something no nine-year-old should have ever had to ponder.
My “friends’’ slip through my hands, creating a void that simply cannot be filled.
Adults are superficially concerned, expect me to change at the flip of a switch.
This time, this time, I won’t be ignored.
This time, this time, I will be accepted.
This messy desk is my new domain. No one dares approach.
“Look how alone she is. She’s so -------,” the giggles and whispers broadcast. “What a nerd.”
Others travel far and wide to other kingdoms, but this queen must stay.
A pencil drops from my hand, and I have water for vision.
Everything I love about learning is gone.
And the void inside me grows bigger as the whispers get louder, alienating me.
I’m asked a question, and I’m too distracted to give an answer.
I’m too stupid for society, too stupid for this class.
The surrounding village wants to overthrow this not-so-evil queen.
She has turned to the magic of books, but the books have failed her.
This time, this time, there won’t be anything to save me.
This time, this time, the void will swallow me.
Learning how to love? I never got the chance.
To give that you’ve been given is the way I was taught.
That one wandering, worrying thought still pervades my eleven-year-old mind.
My life is slipping out of my arms, creating a fog of pain and numbness.
Everyone crowds around, now genuinely concerned.
This time, this time, everything will end.
This time, this time, no one else will leave me.
My dark and depressing aura is my only domain, no one dares to confront me.
“Look how sad she is. Why can’t she get over it already,” grumbles and snarks say. “What an emo.”
Everyone invades the castle, the throne is destroyed.
This queen has lost her hope, and death is all she knows.
A truck overturns, and a father has left this world for eternity, lost in the void.
Everything I love about the light is lost,
And the void inside me consumes my very being.
I’m poked and prodded, words trying to get a reaction from me.
I’m too depressed, too sad to care.
The surrounding village wants this queen back to normal,
But there is no longer such thing as normal.
This time, this time, it all will soon end.
THis time, this time, the darkness will be my friend.
Learning to accept death? I’ve done that since I was nine.
Death was something in the back of my mind.
That one thought that hisses at me when things go dark in my thirteen-year-old mind.
I am eighteen now. The feelings are the same.
Everything else has changed, but that thought still remains, though buried in life’s responsibilities.
I hide my sadness and laugh and joke with the others,
But this queen has been dethroned, her kingdom is in shambles.
On the outside the castle is clean and in order,
But the inside is a war zone, and nothing can be fixed.
Can anyone save this broken monarchy?
Only the King can. But only when he returns.
Until then, nothing will remain the same.
Nothing will ever be the same.
The King has has a story too, but it its not a story for the queen to tell.
She can barely tell her own on the crumbled throne of fool's gold.
For it was a fool's hope she carried, a fool's heart was her own.
And she knew in her fool's mind that the bejeweled crown was tarnished.
It's time for a new ruler, a new queen must take her place, so she thought.
I am not fit to rule this kingdom.
The advisors have stayed by her side loyally, they will not desert her now.
"You are the only ruler for this kingdom," they say, straightening the mangled metal of her throne. "Only you can sit here."
So the queen decided to change the path she chose.
She would rebuild what has been lost, and she'll be ------ if she fails.
Soon she will be whole again.
And almost everything will have changed.