The Lie

I was once a fairy

Small, bright, and airy

On a meadow of dandelions and flowers

But when the Queen of the Night

Began the hopeless fight

Floral turned to blood showers

I was a warrior and fighter

Who delighted in lighter

Fluids and matches and red sky

So after the fire

I sought even higher

Skies to mask the tears I can’t cry

I lived too long in my head

And began to remember the dead

Friends, foes, and others

So when the moon hung high

I said goodbye

To this world absent of my brothers

When I awoke once again

Without a familiar sight or friend

I became scared and started to cry

The tears were real

And I can still feel

My new mother’s warm hands and eyes

She took me back home

No longer strong or alone

Even as I whine and kick and wail

But no matter my size

My mother’s green eyes

Begin and end my tale


This was a part of a prompt from a small writing group. I wanted to tell a fantastical tale, and what better way to do so than limericks? Although I keep a strong faith in the fey, magic, and reincarnation, I don’t believe I was a fairy in my past life. If I was, why change to a human? Isn’t that a downgrade? Unlike fairies, I have limited knowledge on the workings of the metaphysical.