There once was a family who lived
in a house on the edge of a lake
full of trees instead of water,
who locked themselves in a fairytale
they didn’t know they were telling.
There once was father who braved
the outside world to make shoes
that kept danger walking away,
who told his children stories about
everything but where he came from.
There once was a mother who taught
her children about the world outside
the fortress she had built,
who protected them from the monsters
trying to poison them away from her.
There once was a brother who had
a heart that had to be wound up like a music box
in case he forgot how to use it,
who died and came back but can’t tell
you what heaven looked like.
There once was a sister who learned
to climb trees before she could walk
the tightrope she’d strung up herself,
who stole a piece of the sun
just because she was told she never could.
There once was a little brother who made
friends with the ugly critters
and learned their secrets only to keep them,
who could make stones laugh
but only when he wasn’t trying.
There once was a little sister who bled
the moon red just so she could
wash it silver again,
who learned how to dance
to the music the bees only sang for her.
There once was a woods child,
a ghost, the sibling who came
into the world first but found home last,
who was an unholy trinity
of girl, boy, and inbetween
searching for a pulse they lost
somewhere in the woods,
who dug through tree roots
for a name that fit,
who planted acorns to sprout
oak trees the could reach the sky
and crack it open so they could see
where wishes went missing,
who found friends in the beasts
their mother called monsters.
There once was a child who almost
fit but didn’t,
who dug a grave
for themself
but didn’t die
who had a place
called home
but didn’t know
how to stay.
There once was a family who lived
in a house on the edge of the rest of the world
they built a wall to keep out,
who trapped themselves in the beginning
of a fairytale that didn’t have an end.
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