Puff The Magic Dragon

For fifty-four years, I, Puff The Magic Dragon, have been curled up in my cave. The emptiness on my gigantic tail representative of the bare wasteland that is my heart. The only thing keeping me from unleashing wrath upon the world was the autumn mist of Honnah Lee, but like everything else, it has disappeared. My life used to be glorious. Kings, Queens, Noblemen, they would all bow down whenever they passed by. They would stay and chat and eat and laugh. Pirates would lower their sails at the sight of me sailing the seas (wings were overrated), and I was able to roar my name with such dominance and control that when I did, everyone from sea to shining sea knew. There were great riches, gold, toys, glory, and through it all, Little Jackie Paper perched by my side atop my gigantic tail, wearing a chain of silver with value equivalent to the likes of our glory. ‘Twas one grey night when they turned on him. Ambushed him in his slumber in my cave by the sea. For what reason, I do not know. What I do know is that I could’ve protected him. I could’ve done something. I could have saved my best friend’s life. If I weren’t such a coward, I could’ve saved him. Dragon’s may live forever, but the day that Little Jackie Paper died was the day I
It is here that I meet face to face, for the first time in fifty-four years, a king. What a fake man, rich beyond compare, just sitting around while his citizens scrabble for the essentials of life, food, water, shelter. The citizens clearly in the state these measly humans describe as “poverty”. I gave this first kingdom a chance to live, I asked the king, “Divide your fat riches among your population so that they might live. Surely a king wants what’s best for his people?”. I burned that excuse for a kingdom, its fat leader, and it’s population. “How the world has changed”, I thought to myself as I swooped away from the burning ashes of the now barren