If I Cannot Win

Colors do not shine alone. Roots do not grow for themselves. The thorn shields something. Sky and sea meet in blue. If I cannot win, neither hand nor work has any purpose. Honey neither asked for nor given. If I cannot win, I set fire to my own temple. I withdraw the stake where no prize exists. I remove the runner from the race that rages dizzyingly far away.

Fairy godmother, I snap your wand in two. Take your measured fate somewhere else. Shame on the shoddy work at your loom. Flowers are not sweet. Grass is not soft. It stabs. The sun is pocked with blisters. The moon brims with foul water. Where the thread is evil, I unravel it clean away. Witch, you gloated over your spell. Now the spell has turned on you. Your gift does not exist where no one is left to receive it.