I wrote a hundred poems

About you, for you, to you,

But you never realized

Did you?

Those words were not just words

They were physical pieces

Of a priceless heart

A paper and ink home

That you owned

You weren’t renting

You had no mortgage

But maybe that’s why

It was worthless to you,

You didn’t have to fight for it

I was always the one fighting

Your fearless little gladiator

In the Colosseum

As you looked on

Oh heartless Emperor

After all this time

After every battle I fought

After every battle I won

You would give the thumbs down?

Did I truly mean that little to you?

Was I truly just a play pretty

In your pitiless hands?

Well then, your majesty

I must spread my wings and take my leave,

Forgive me but I am a dragon

Not some little boy’s 

Plastic little toy.