I feel the love of a flawed adoption.
A good enough reason to not go on living.
Dumb stork took a wrong turn as he broke his wing.
The saddest time for barren folk with no dreams

Of a troll that would obey and fetch,
holding a troll that would make them wretch,
teaching that troll its ABC’s,
praying to their god’s wishes on its hairy knees.

Learning to ditch rhyme for a good reason
Finally to refrain from saying each “season”.
And now an old troll speaks as it should:
Unbridled as that lost, or delivered wrong.

Wishing to be adopted for I know not my parents.
Nor the love I learned not to believe in…
Once upon a time when a stork took one wrong turn.
I don’t delve into tales found in fairybooks

Nor do I confide in my sole self for that matter.
Only Rebirth as you must die before finding your new life.
The truth that no one confesses as you cast
your weighted, long line over the pristine water of a lake,

Catching light in scaly wings, swimming via fish,
through your own undertow of beginnings.
Now it seems that nothing bites, but lower your voice,
little troll, for you shall have plenty to eat tonight.