Fairy Tales are more than true; not because they tell us that dragons exist, but because they tell us that dragons can be beaten.

and me!

It was that time on the playground,

when you were frolicking with your friends,

sliding and swinging

as the hours winded down.

You flew down the orange plastic,

and when you leapt to your feet at the end

you were staring straight into the face of that big kid,

the one who always made fun of you,

who always took your things,

who always forced you away.

They stared you down,

they glared at you until you averted your eyes

and scooted away.

You go back, to playing with your friends,

you forget about the bully.

You fly down the orange plastic again,

and there they are, waiting for you.

Maybe they hit you,

or yell,

or drag you or pull your hair or hurt you with their words.

You want to leave,

but suddenly your friend is by your side,

and they stare right back.

You look at them in astonishment,

but you see the bravery and the caring and the determination in their face,

and you stare with them.

Another friend shows up,

and another,

until the entire playground is staring at this bully.

They cave.

They can't take it.

They can't stand seeing such love.

They stagger back, as if hit,

and maybe fall.

You hold out your hand,

you reach down to them,

you grab theirs and lift them off the ground.

All is forgiven,

and you now have a new friend.

You've beaten them,

and since they couldn't beat you,

they joined you.


Put it in your head, baby
Hollywood is dead

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