Ink-black smudges mar my fingertips,
Droplets of lifeblood stain each page.

The ashen-grey sky is the perfect backdrop
For plumes of dragon breath,
Breathed from between chapped lips
And from fragile human lungs.

I am a mystery myself, wrapped in paper-thin skin
With a heart as hot as fire burning in my breast.
My progeny rests between my ribs;
She will be my greatest oeuvre.

- Nichole Brewer