This is my poem The Shapeshifter so far. It is the title work of my upcoming poetry collection. So far it has not been released in its completion.
it will be released eventually regardless, this is just so I can gage current interest. Honk
@mxmorbidmidnight / mxmorbidmidnight.tumblr.com
This is my poem The Shapeshifter so far. It is the title work of my upcoming poetry collection. So far it has not been released in its completion.
it will be released eventually regardless, this is just so I can gage current interest. Honk
This poem I have made I made about myself.
The shapeshifter refers to only one, that being me. This poem is who I am. I am, The Shapeshifter
As a nonhuman I feel the instinct to protect humans. My forms are very often creatures such as dragons, wolves and other powerful beings, while my human body can’t do much, there’s still this idea in my mind that I must protect humans because I’m bigger and I’m stronger (even though my body is the same as theirs). It’s like when a cat chooses someone as “their person”. When I care for someone enough they become one of my humans. I want to take care of them, make sure they’re warm and well fed and protect them from anyone that hurts them. I’m always very aware of how vulnerable humans are. I make myself like a guard dog, a hovering spirit to defend them as much as I can.
Tis another reason I have come to despise this human body with no claws and teeth, nor great size and strength to protect my humans. The most I can give is my loyalty.
I wrote a poem about this
Oh!!! I have just written the most wonderful poem of my life!! I adore it so much. Tis the beauty of poetry, writing something that you treasure so dearly like a jewel. I want to release it because I'm proud of it however the dragon part of my brain is saying NO ITS MINE!!! and telling me to hide it in my den. Will update when turmoil resolves itself or I resolve it, whatever comes first. Thou will likely know if I do publish it because I will be throwing it in thy face every three seconds. Continue as normal dear, as if I were never here.
*slithers away in a terrible manner*
Hollow are my lungs, in which I might breathe
Baring my belly to the blade
When whimsy hit the showstopper
And now I say, hush dog, you know not of what you speak
There’s muscle in this soup
Beware, beware (beware)
To cry, Kill me agapanthus! I beg of thee
I am the wreck
Over the trees
I am not troubled by the plights of romance
I do as I please
For I am the lady of the hour
As I have grown into the worst kind of tree
Who will only do as the mother decrees
My worst fear as an Aromantic is someone thinking my poetry about crows, suffering and being a creature is about romance