Gone

When she was little she realized
Her demons weren't the dragons of lore
Shape-shifting monsters
They were heavy blankets
Promising comfort but just stifling.
When she was little she realized
The easiest way to deal with them
Was to do what you did with any old object
That can't be thrown out ---
Put them into a box
Seal it up tight
Throw it in a corner to be forgotten.
When she was little she realized
She didn't need a Prince Charming to save her
She didn't want one
Because all they did in their naive desire to help
Was to open the boxes,
Take out the blankets,
And throw them over her to keep her warm.
When she was little she realized
It was up to her to keep everything under control
To hide deep in the maze
To go deeper still
To find the most looked over crevice
Where she could store these blankets,
Unraveled from use.
But though she realized it all,
It wasn't enough.
And every day she found herself drowning in the depths of those threads,
Soaked in guilt,
Woven from sadness,
Thick with regret.