I can't fly.
And perhaps I never will.
Though I was born of fire.
I am unable to wield it's strength.
Instead I feel the hunger.
This intense need of my weak flesh craving it's daily peace.
So as other dragons do.
I feed on the ash.
And in the illusion it creates.
There is finally rest.
I can't fully be to blamed for the way I am.
As dragons carelessly raise their own.
But am I such an awful creature?
That all around me must burn and the people be made of dust.
There are many kinds of fire.
And my fear is that one day you'll all see mine.
The thing about fire is that it moves and grows so sudden.
That by the time you reach water its already consumed you.
Move like fire.
And you can consume the world if your not careful.
Its the ash that calms me.
Keeping the fire at bay.
Judge my species for what we are.
Because we won't care anyway.
One day I will spread my wings and fly from this place.
I don't know if that's true, but flying would be the mother fucking shit.